i saw the letter k immediately. one always sees ones initials, i suppose.
it immediately made me think of the way i used to sign everything – back in the day. (note: “the day” means the 70s – which is now – shockingly – half a century ago – which makes me laugh aloud!!)
i used a combination of my initials K, E, A – joined together – nothing extraordinary, it looked like this:
i used it everywhere. i signed my poetry with it. turned in lab reports with it. i autographed my lyrics in black-and-white-speckled composition books. i signed all my greeting cards with it and left notes on crunch’s windshield adorned with it. my monogram traveled with me everywhere.
and soon, recipients of my dedication to this began to use it back to me. i even have a beautiful gold necklace that was gifted to me with my cherished self-designed monogram.
and then, the guitar strap.
it was a present.
it was during the time that tooled leather had more than a minute. like everyone, i already had tooled leather keyfobs, bracelets, belts, change purses and full-sized handbags.
but the guitar strap stood out.
i used this guitar strap for five decades on my guitar. i had compartmentalized what it represented, the person who had given it to me, the time of which it reminded me.
until one day, a few years ago.
when you join together with a partner much later in life, you are full of the stories of the rest of the time you were not together. it’s rich history, narrative begging to be shared. and so, these stories start to tell themselves a little at a time as you get to know each other. and so one day i told him the story.
in horror he listened. he held me as i wept. he gently asked questions. he was quiet with me.
the bungie cord tightly lashed around the compartment of the sexual abuse flung free, snapping back, narrowly missing us. and the box was opened.
i removed the guitar strap from my guitar, unweaving the leather cord that held it onto the neck just under the tuning pegs. i stared at it for a few minutes, my monogram tooled into stiff leather that had somewhat softened through all the years.
and i took it outside and placed it in the garbage can.
*****
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