Luego de que todos celebraran la Navidad en familia, ya venían los días normales nuevamente, silencio, comenzaron a quitar las decoraciones, el frío ya era mucho más tranquilo y menos eventos de música, por estar terminando dicha época. El guitarrista the Grunge se mantuvo en su rincón, con sus cartones acomodados, la guitarra roja y la caja de música, que ahora, ocupaba un lugar especial a su lado, pero a la vez pensando cuál sería su próximo destino, ya que necesita llevar ese talento a la cima y poder generar dinero.
Al caer la noche y con una taza de café en sus manos que le había regalado, se puso a afinar la guitarra, pero notó algo extraño y se sorprendió: esta vez el sonido era más limpio, más firme, como si la madera hubiese rejuvenecido, recordando el primer día que le dieron esa guitarra roja, sin embargo la guitarra era la misma, ya que no había hecho nada, pero ahora la diferencia es que cada nota tenía una intención distinta, más profunda. Al tocar el primer acorde, de inmediato la caja respondió con un giro suave, como si reconociera la guitarrista y era su momento para volver a brillar, para ser escuchadas y que le diera felicidad a esta persona.
After everyone celebrated Christmas with their families, normal days returned, silence, they began to take down the decorations, the cold was much milder, and there were fewer music events, as the season was coming to an end. The Grunge guitarist stayed in his corner, with his cardboard boxes neatly arranged, his red guitar, and the music box, which now occupied a special place beside him. At the same time, he was thinking about what his next destination would be, as he needed to take his talent to the top and make money.
As night fell, with a cup of coffee in his hands that she had given him, he began to tune his guitar, but he noticed something strange and was surprised: this time the sound was cleaner, firmer, as if the wood had been rejuvenated, reminding him of the first day he was given that red guitar. However, the guitar was the same, as he had not done anything to it, but now the difference was that each note had a different, deeper meaning. When she played the first chord, the body immediately responded with a soft twist, as if it recognized the guitarist and it was her moment to shine again, to be heard and to bring happiness to this person.
Cuando afinó la guitarra y la caja de música con algo fondo sentimental, varias personas comenzaron a detenerse de nuevo muy cerca de ese rincón, por la curiosidad de saber quién estaba allí a esa hora de la noche y otros que se acercaron, ya que lo habían escuchado antes, aun así todos parecían encontrar algo en esas melodías: un recuerdo, una ausencia, una calma al escuchar esa guitarra y fue el momento indicado para que The Grunge entendiera que ya no tocaba solo para sobrevivir al invierno, sino para acompañar a quienes también cargaban silencios en esos últimos días del año.
Todo cambio en una noche, cuando un hombre mayor se sentó frente a él sin decirle una sola palabra, se acomodó y escuchó toda la canción con los ojos cerrados, algo que para ese señor fue mágico y recordó sus tiempos de artistas en risignstar y ahora solo le gustaba oír a los demás, por eso al terminar le dejó una pequeña moneda y un gracias. The Grunge estaba muy sorprendido por lo que había logrado en esos minutos y no preguntó nada, solo siguió tocando y allí se mostró como la música ya había hecho su trabajo.
Con el paso de los días arranco un nuevo año y mientras que muchos festejaban este guitarrista, aún seguía ese rincón y se dio cuenta que su rincón ya no era invisible, muchos hablaban de ese espacio y logró marcar una diferencia, no porque se hubiera vuelto bonito o iluminado, sino porque había sido habitado por historias de personas mayores que cada una le dejó una enseñanza a este joven y sobre todo disfrutar de su música. La guitarra seguía con mucha fuerza, cada vez sonaba mejor y la caja de música, ahora, parecía invencible, ya que tenías días soñando y aun allí seguía, donde ambas cosas no creaban magia, creaban presencia.
When he tuned his guitar and music box with something sentimental, several people began to stop again very close to that corner, curious to know who was there at that time of night, and others approached because they had heard him before. yet everyone seemed to find something in those melodies: a memory, an absence, a calmness when listening to that guitar. It was the right moment for The Grunge to understand that he was no longer playing just to survive the winter, but to accompany those who also carried silences in those last days of the year.
Everything changed in one night, when an elderly man sat down in front of him without saying a word, settled in, and listened to the whole song with his eyes closed. For that man, it was magical, reminding him of his days as an artist in Risignstar. Now he just liked to listen to others, so when the song ended, he left a small coin and a thank you. The Grunge was very surprised by what he had achieved in those few minutes and didn't ask any questions, he just kept playing and there he showed how music had already done its job.
As the days passed, a new year began, and while many celebrated this guitarist, he remained in that corner and realized that his corner was no longer invisible. Many people talked about that space, and he managed to make a difference, not because it had become beautiful or brightly lit, but because it had been inhabited by stories of older people, each of whom had taught this young man something and, above all, taught him to enjoy his music. The guitar continued to play strongly, sounding better and better, and the music box now seemed invincible, as you had been dreaming for days and it was still there, where both things did not create magic, they created presence.
Pasó varios días más en ese rincón, pero ya era momento de que The Grunge se marchara y siguiera con su vida, por eso para despedirse tocó una última canción, no fue un villancico, ni una melodía triste. Fue algo nuevo, nacido entre recuerdos viejos y esperanzas silenciosas, que fue escribiendo con cada visita que recibió durante todo ese tiempo, por eso tomó su guitarra, sonrío, agradeció por todo para así comenzó a tocar y supo que, mientras existiera alguien dispuesto a escuchar, la música siempre encontraría un lugar. Y así, entre cuerdas gastadas y notas que se negaban a desaparecer, entendió que algunas historias no terminan con la Navidad.
He spent several more days in that corner, but it was time for The Grunge to leave and get on with his life, so he played one last song to say goodbye. It wasn't a Christmas carol, nor was it a sad melody. It was something new, born between old memories and silent hopes, which he had written with each visit he received during all that time. So he picked up his guitar, smiled, gave thanks for everything, and began to play. He knew that as long as there was someone willing to listen, music would always find a place. And so, between worn strings and notes that refused to fade away, he understood that some stories don't end with Christmas.
Sending great vibes and Ecency votes your way.
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