Cussing, a diminished chord proves too much for my fingers and my voice cracks singing about Angels and second chances.
I could use a visit from my Guardian Angel right now but the house is silent.
Leaning on the guitar, I sigh rubbing my hand.
Tossing two Ibuprofen down my throat, I try again but the wrist aches.
My mind's full of Sunday on this Thursday but my body isn't letting me fully go there.
It's a cold, grey day with a biting wind.
Leaves are violently blown from trees.
Looking through the windows, birds are absent, cars exhaust white smoke and under dressed people rush down the street.
A plastic bag takes flight.
"How could I ever have lost you ... when I loved you?" I sing again but the wrist screams in agony and my voice is hallow and tired.
"Alexis," I command, hanging my guitar on the wall, "play" ... and from a cloud somewhere the music I can't make fills the house with hope of the joy Sunday will bring.
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THIS SUNDAY AT BAR CHURCH ... The Rev's actually ready from the Bible, talking about each verse as he goes and will manage to not preach in the process. There's also be valet attempts at good songs, a Hell of a spread on the Potluck on the Pool Table and the promise of earlier alcohol sales.
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You can help Bar Church keep going with a gift through Go Fund Me at https://www.gofundme.com/barchurch through Palpay at tybeebarchurch@gmail.com or by tossing something in the bucket on Sunday morning.
