I met my husband when I was eighteen. He was a member of the rondalla in our town, and he was one of the best guitar players there. I was captivated the moment I first saw him strum and play with the strings.
Then I heard his voice. I was captivated even more.
I, too, was endowed with musical gift. My fingers are at their finest whenever they touch the piano. My heart is filled with much joy whenever I hear fine melody entwined with perfectly woven words.
Music drew us closer to each other.
We married when I was twenty four. And by the time I turned thirty, he went abroad to provide for our family. He spent three long years there. The days passed by slowly. I played our worn out piano, I strummed his rusting guitar just to keep me company. But the music was not the same.
I was surprised when a familiar silhouette appeared behind our door. It was him. My heart jumped with joy. We caught up with the years we missed. Ever since the day when he came back, the sound of a sweet melody has always filled our home.
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