Much played, and much loved. The guitar looked weathered from many years of play. Sat beside the guitar was a man wearing a straw hat, greyed hair on top and above his lip. He was wearing a black vest over a blue-white striped button-up shirt. The man was looking at his feet, smoking a cigarette with one elbow dug into his knee. Finishing his cigarette he sat up slowly and leaned back into the bench.
The park was filled with passersby on their way to work for the morning. Cups of coffee held and clopping shoes heard as women in uncomfortably high heels were trudging over the pavement, a full day of ankle pain in their heads. The man grabbed the neck of the guitar and placed it in his lap. With a slight hesitation of a breath in he began to strum slowly and softly. Gradually his pace and his intensity striking the guitar strings reverberated through the park. This pleased the man, as their thoughts were pleasantly interrupted by the sound of music and away from the long task list that met them when they arrived at their offices.
A woman sat on the park bench opposite the guitar playing man and began sipping her coffee, gazing intently at both the man's technique as he placed this weathered guitar and also into the man's eyes . Seemingly admiring the creative endeavour this man had chosen for what seemed like his remaining years ahead. The engagement of this woman made passers-by almost relish in the thought that this woman is now contemplating her own twilight years and what endeavours she may pursue.
The guitar playing man finished his song. A brief pause to a water bottle and opening up invite to the few captivated audience members to look at the open guitar case in front. Was this man playing for in need of money deposited into this placed guitar case? Or was the invite and receiving of money just a validation in the pursuit of his investment of showing up to this park and connecting with others. The woman checked her watch. Got up from the bench and deposited the change from her left coat pocket. One could only imagine change from a $10 bill that she received from the coffee in hand only purchased moments ago. The man knodded without word. An acknowledgment of both her witnessing him play this song, but also in gratitude of her parting with the money that was hers.
The man put his water bottle down. Picked up his guitar again in position and began his next song. Passersby continued to notice or not this man sat on the bench with his weathered and sun leeched guitar. Either way, the man was content in his day. This was what he wanted.