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Sally<br />
by Dana Mingione<br />
Her name <strong>is</strong> Sally.<br />
She sits in the corner of the room, veiled in a thin sheet of dust and neglect.<br />
She’s probably out of tune.<br />
When I unwrapped her on Chr<strong>is</strong>tmas morning, I became six years old again; she was a new Barbie and I wore pigtails. I wanted<br />
to rip her out of her case, tweak those bright chrome knobs and do nothing but explore her notes and chords all day. But I was sixteen,<br />
not six, so after presents, I went back to sleep for awhile. Instead of sugar plums, I dreamed of cherry red guitars.<br />
For the whole month of January, she was my best friend. I would sit on my bed and cradle her, trying to decipher the tab sheets<br />
that I had printed out. After about a week, I bought an amp. I bought a capo. I was in for the long haul. Those stupid dreams of a band<br />
that I had with my friends weren’t looking so stupid anymore. I could sing, I would write songs. All I needed was to work at th<strong>is</strong> instrument<br />
thing and I’d be golden, right?<br />
I managed to coax some decent chords from her neck, but my<br />
inexperienced fingers stumbled. Those strings were trip wires. My<br />
brain’s commands couldn’t bridge the vast gap of my synapses and<br />
make it all the way to my hands.<br />
Still, I would pluck away, softly singing song after simple song.<br />
While I attempted it, the new songbook of hardcore pop music that I<br />
received for Chr<strong>is</strong>tmas was still a little out of my league. I got pretty<br />
darn good at “Happy Birthday” and “Deck the Halls” though, let me<br />
tell you.<br />
I had every intention of practicing every day. I really did. But<br />
things came up, as things tend to do. <strong>The</strong> dulcet tones of off tempo<br />
strumming and botched chords could be heard less and less in my<br />
house.<br />
It was fifth grade clarinet all over again.<br />
So Sally got cozy in her new neighborhood in the corner, along<br />
with her companions, Amp and Songbook. I should really pay her a<br />
v<strong>is</strong>it sometime.<br />
Am I not driven? Am I not talented? <strong>The</strong> answer to the former <strong>is</strong><br />
“Yes,” so I guess I’ll never know the answer to the latter. You probably<br />
won’t see me at the Grammys, on MTV, or even on stage at Acoustic<br />
Underground.<br />
But then again, maybe I will take Sally our one Saturday afternoon<br />
and really fall for her. We would start off fast, as we did before,<br />
with a sudden spark. But our love may blossom over time. Maybe<br />
we’ll have a life together someday.<br />
But until that day, I think we are just fair-weather friends.<br />
Danielle Acevedo<br />
3
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