Springtime Serenade

It was a day to trump all boring days. There was nothing in the whole world I could think of to do, but I was positively aching to go outside. So I did. I picked up my blanket and my book and set off in the direction of Adam's Park, my absolute favorite place to go "out-of-doors." I found a nice partially-shady spot of ground and I stretched out and began to read.

It was a marvelous day to be at the park. There were so many people to see: the mom playing with her baby, the family taking pictures in matching white shirts, the guitarist in the far corner, the laughter of children on the playground. It was a simply gorgeous day!

I had been there for at least an hour and the guitarist I heard started to walk past me--I thought. So I feigned interest in my book and waited for him to pass by. He stopped, and asked me what book I was reading.

Confused, I told him. He asked what it was about, but this book was too complex for me to simplify, so I muttered something about "sci-fi" and "it's complicated."

Then he said, "You looked kind of bored, would you like a serenade?"

How are you supposed to respond to that? My head flew a million miles a second. What do I do? How do I say no politely? Is this going to be awkward? WHY do I want to say no? He is strange looking, but not threatening. What's the worst that could happen? When will this chance come again?

So I said, "Sure." I told myself that I'd just play it safe, and make sure not to give out too much information. It was a full park, not a dark alley. I was safe.

So he introduced himself as Matt and got out his guitar and sat on the grass in front of me. (Just because you can't really tell in the picture, he had blue highlights in his hair. Definite blue.)

He asked me what kind of music I liked, to which I replied, "Anything and everything." Those of you who know me can testify of it's truth. He told me that that wasn't very helpful, so he chose a piece of "Spanish guitar."

I know a little about the guitar because I used to play it... kind of. He wasn't by any means amazing, but he tried and did well. MUCH better than I could ever do. He kind of had pudgy fingers, but did well in spite of them.

He told me that it was called "Spanish Romance" which sent up a little red flag, but I promised I would play it safe and not give him any strange ideas. The entire time I was guarded, but I still had lots of fun. It was flattering that he picked me, most likely because I was the only one of his approximate age in the general vicinity, but it still felt nice to be noticed.

The next song he played was one he had written. He told me to picture the scene it was portraying, and what emotion I felt as I listened. It was a beautiful piece and I absolutely loved it. To me it sounded very thoughtful, contemplative. He was kind of taken back by my answer and he told me what his image was. He pictured a wide open field right after a battle during the civil war. With fog laying thick on the ground, broken wagons, and scattered helmets. It honestly did fit the music. The thoughtful feeling came from someone looking on the scene at the aftermath.

He repeated over and over that he loved to share his music with people, and I thought that was really cool. He's very brave for doing so. We talked about different things and I found out that he is from Long Beach, CA, is apparently a member of the church, and that he wants to go to beauty school. He was very strange, but talking to him was like medicine to my lonely soul that day. I enjoyed it.

He played one more song for me, "Come Thou Fount." I love that song. He forgot the words in a few places, but did a good job nonetheless. He had a fairly decent voice, and his guitar accompaniment was really good. That song was a wonderful reminder and something I definitely needed to hear.

Afterward he shook my hand, I gave him my thanks, and we said goodbye. Truly fascinating and wonderful! (And for your benefit Mom--completely safe. I'll never see him again unless it's a random coincidence.)

Now I can say I have been serenaded. In a park. By a man with blue hair. Aren't you jealous?