Friday, December 30, 2011

The Pick

Right after I bought my first guitar, more than a decade ago, I was given an orange D'Addario pick. I never really used it - I couldn't hold many chords properly (still can't) and didn't know any fancy strumming patterns (still don't) - so I only learned the simplest songs requiring plucking one or two strings at any instant. Those I do with my nails, so the pick was just... mine. For ten long years (and more) it was mine, and I kept it in my purse. For ten long years (and more) it went with me everywhere I did, snugly nestled in my purse.

I lost it nearly three months ago. I was at the airport, dropping off my baggage at the counter, tugging at my ID card in my purse, when I noticed it missing. I could have dropped it anywhere, anytime. It was gone.

It was a pick I don't use, given to me by someone I don't relate to anymore. Yet, the moment I realised I'd never see it again was so unexpectedly overwhelmingly painful I had to hold back the tears. I do not understand how I can be so attached to that little inanimate object, which I don't even need! For the rest of my wait and the entire flight to my destination, I was sad. I was brooding; I was actually grieving. The lost pick was all I could think of. I do not even have a photo of it!

After touching down, I took a taxi to my hotel. I suppose my being extremely sorrowful was apparent, and perhaps alarming, for I noted that the driver stole occasional curious glances at me from his rear-view mirror, and kept from small talk. It wasn't until the last stretch of the winding road we were on, that he dared asked if I had traveled for work or leisure. And following my short but civil response, he made some comments about the weather. I hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, but I lost something important to me... Wait, was it really important to me? No, I guess not... just that it's been with me for so long, I grew so used to having it that I didn't want to be without it.

I took two days to get over it. Two days. However, considering that I took two years to get over my first breakup... it wasn't so bad. Don't you agree?

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