thebeckybug

I’m surfing the internet reading about a certain music center in Atlanta.

It’s a beautiful day and all of the doors in my little home are open.

I hear cars pass by, and then a trumpet riff. The trumpet melody slowly gets closer as I peer out the screen door, drawn like a child anticipating The Ice Cream Truck.

A single bugleboy slumps along, playing a lone parade through the neighborhood. He takes a breath. I applaud from inside. The dog starts and his barking resounds in the guitar hung on the wall.