Why Not? Anonymous

There I stood in my basement during spring break of my freshman year, just a few feet away from my old acoustic guitar which had been collecting dust for years. I can’t explain what had drawn me back to that neglected instrument, but I suddenly felt an all-consuming desire to make music. As I slung the strap of the guitar case over my shoulder, I was immediately transported to where I first became fascinated with music.

My mind wandered back to when I still shared a bedroom with my older sister. Every night, I would sit on the edge of my yellow gingham trundle bed at approximately 7:30, clothed in hand-me-down pajamas, watching her practice her violin. I watched in wonder, imagining myself playing an instrument of my very own. At the time, I didn’t know much about music, but being the kind of kid who always knew what she wanted, I knew that I wanted nothing more than to play my very own pink electric guitar. My miniature pink guitar soon arrived at my doorstep. I began lessons and proceeded to play for years, but as time went on, I realized there were a lot of things I didn’t like about my musical studies. I didn’t like being told what to practice and when.

Gradually, as I outgrew my pink electric guitar, I traded it for a...