He played on. The story of love and betrayal, life and death. All of the wrongs and rights, the ups and downs, the lonely nights and hungover mornings rushing back to meet him. A cinematic, fantastic dream of hope and delusion and drive. A song of lost hope, lost love, lost money, and lost faith. He could hear the choirs of angels, and the screams of the demons. All of it was there in the music. The music, the life he lived, the life he left behind, and the pieces he wanted to keep alive.
He opened his eyes and looked at the walls of the room. He spoke to the silence. “Man, I missed you.” The guitar, still vibrating against his chest confirming and affirming the motion and the words.
“Come on girl, to quote a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, I think it’s time for me to move along, I do believe.”
He put the old guitar back in her case and kissed his fingers and placed the kiss on the guitar and closed the case. He stood, his knees popping, lifting the case and turning to leave the room. We’ve been gone too long. Way too long. He walked through the bedroom door, leaving the light on. He grabbed his keys hanging by the door and strolled into the future.
“They call me the breeze. I keep rolling down the road. I ain’t got me nobody, I don’t carry me no load.”
©Tony Whitford 1/6/2017
The lyrics from, I Ain’t The One, where written by Ronnie Van Zant
The lyrics from, Call Me The Breeze belong to John J. Cale
Credit where credit is due. And boy is it due.