Chapter 24: You Can Play in My GardenOn Friday evening, as Noah played on his Xbox, I got my guitar and sat down on a chair in the kitchen. I didn’t play anymore. I didn’t sing. Not like I used to. My fingers remembered the familiar chords and I strummed and hummed softly to myself. The guitar was seriously out of tune. From long habit, I tuned it by ear. I needed to practice, get ready for the protest.
One of the songs I’d written in my younger years was called “Sweet Thing,” and it still rang out clear and vivid in my mind. It was one of our more popular songs when I was with Southern Nights.
You can play in my garden
I don’t care what people say
Cause I’ve been so broken-hearted
And you just take my breath away…
Noah came over and put his ear against my back, listening to the vibr
