Furniture Removalist Service That Gave A Trip Down Memory Lane!

Having all your furniture removed from your old house to a new house is definitely one physically strenuous job. But thanks to various furniture removalist services available you can sit back and watch them do the hard work for you. But what about the emotional aspect? I believe we all have some precious items that hold more value than we can calculate. Their values go beyond the monetary calculation. And this is why when I came to know about the shifting of our old grandparent’s house to the new apartment, the first thing that came to my mind was the precious thing stored carefully in the attic. But what happened in the end is what led me to write this post today. Read on to know the full story of how a simple transition job became an emotional journey for me.

Furniture Removalist Service That Gave A Trip Down Memory Lane!

I was waiting at the Perth International airport to board my flight to the Gold Coast airport when I received a text from Olivia that my two other brothers have decided to make the transition today. Although I had no apparent problem with the transition, but the one thing that made me perplexed was that special object kept under the wraps in the attic. Had I known before, I would have secured that particular thing myself and let the removalist service take care of the rest. But since I was not even there, there was no choice but to think about the memories I had with the object. While I was waiting at the airport, amidst all the hustle and bustle, I can hear my grandfather say,

“You see, this little beauty here was probably made from these trees of this very wood we are standing now. Although there ain’t no rosewood left for you to find but from what I remember, this small parlor guitar was given to me by some carpenter who used to live near this wood.”

In every autumn, me and my old man would come down to this wood house in the outskirts of the jungle. It was about a quarter of a mile car drive from our home and we both loved to spend the weekend here. I started calling my grandpa ‘Old Man’ after he gave me his copy of “The Old Man And The Sea”. He would stock substantial amount of food and supplies in the back of his Geep for us to fill our tummy during the weekend. And along with all that he would never forget to bring that old parlor acoustic guitar and a bottleneck slider. Our days were lazy, we would talk for hours drinking cheap beers and lemonade (till the age of 15, later old man would allow me a can or two of that lousy beer) and then over his swollen belly he would hold the little guitar and belt out some raw blues tunes that would give you the taste of the wood. He was a big fan of blues giants like Robert Johnson, Lightnin’ Hopkins and many more. And often he would just play for hours as if he was talking to himself through the instrument with a longing look on his face. He used to say that the Blues speaks to him unlike anything and hence he always needs his guitar in idle times.

The Attic:

As I boarded my plane, I got another text from Olivia. I asked her to keep me posted about all the happening out there. They are currently packing every single thing to put it all on the truck. I believe they have got everything from the attic as well. That was the current residence for the guitar. In his last days, my old man could not go to the woods anymore. He used to spend most amount of his time in the attic just sitting and occasionally striking a few chords on the guitar. My room is just below, so on winter afternoon I could hear faint melody coming from above. He couldn’t press the strings properly hence the strain came out even more faint and slides would sound like someone weeping. The sun rays would come from the only window above and kissed his feet as he churned out faint melodies.

After he passed away, I kept the guitar there for him. I knew he would often come down; at least that’s what I believed in. I bought a new case for the guitar and kept it there. The removalist must not tamper the case. I saw a kid sitting across me, reading a music magazine and I remember the day my old man told me about how he actually got the guitar.

The Guitar Was Kept There By My Doorway; But Who Kept It?

Like usual, my old man was playing some slide guitar blues with the longing expression on his face. It was a perfect autumn afternoon and brown fallen leaves colored the porch of our wood house. The wood near-by was deep and silent and the only sound you could hear was coming from that little parlor guitar. I gulped a bit of beer and suddenly asked,

“How did you get this guitar old man?”

It wasn’t the first time I asked the question so without raising his head he said,

“I have already told you that I got it from a carpenter who used to live somewhere near this wood but I haven’t seen him a while now...” And then after a pause, he said, “Nor his wife...”

Something was there in those words so I suddenly picked it up and asked, “You never said anything about his wife. I didn’t know he ever had any....what’s the story old man...is there something you want to tell me...?”

He saw something in my face and gave out a sigh. “You really want to know right and I think it’s about time I should tell you why I come with this guitar and play to myself”

Before I could respond to it he started again. In the still of the woods, he would occasionally pluck a string or two which kind of gave a background for the story. With that same longing look in his wrinkled face he continued,

“I started coming here when I was in my youth. I would sit here for hours with my transistor and listen to blues and all sort of pop music that were there on the station. But one day, I was running short on water and felt thirsty like heck. I didn’t want to go back so I went on a bit further into the woods and found this woman picking up dry twigs. It was probably due to the dry leaves or I don’t know why but she became a bit startled when I came close to her.”

“I’m sorry miss, I didn’t mean to rattle ya, actually, I ran out of water, I am staying just there, can you help me with a bucket or two...?”

Seeing my face probably she got everything and gave me a most pleasant smile and said, “Come with me mister...”

“Now, what can I say, she was lovely and she had a lovely name as well; Maria. Since that day, I used to go to her place every time I visited the wood-house. It’s there when I found this guitar and this bottle neck slider. She said it was her man’s guitar but he can’t play it. So I used to play for her, whatever I knew then, Johnson, Hopkins, Rush or anything. In the day time I never saw her man so I could play all day with her.”

“One day she handed me this bottle neck slider. As you can see I have made the edges smooth now but it was wee bit sharp then. Later when I thought about it, I realized it was not meant for any slider but it was indeed a broken bottle neck from what I reckon, she got from her drunken husband’s leftover broken bottles. I also got to figure a small bruise near her chin which she tactfully avoided upon asking.

“You know they say Robert Johnson made a deal with the devil and in return became a musical legend. It’s also said that Devil himself gave him the guitar he used to play. I don’t know if any of that is true or not but the next time when I went to the wood house, I saw this guitar lying there. You must know that time your father was quite ill and when your grandma beeped the pager, I just put the guitar in the truck and rode down to the hospital to be with my son. I knew Maria left the guitar but I couldn’t even thank her.”

“I couldn’t go back there before one month as your father had a critical thing going on. But the spooky thing was, only two days in I read some news in the paper. It said that there was a homicide happened where a woman was chopped into pieces by a wood cutting saw and just beside, a man was found dead with a bullet in his temple. Apparently he killed himself and all that happened very close to this very place, just a bit further into the woods.”

Old man stopped. He wasn’t playing anymore. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to know. As I tried to look a bit further into the woods, a cold and dark evening fell upon us. Winter must be near, I wondered. I finished beer and took my old man inside the house. The guitar lay still on the porch.

When I Reached Home:

As soon as I got off from the plane, I took a taxi and went to the new apartment. Just then I bumped into Olivia. She understood what’s going on and said, “It’s all right James, why don’t you go upstairs now...” I don’t know why but I went upstairs and saw that the guitar case was there waiting for me at the doorway. I opened it and saw the piece was perfect without a scratch. I took it, sat down and belted out a tune that my old man once taught me. And I must say it sounded the same as before.

When I asked Olivia she said that upon seeing the instrument the furniture removalist services took extra care of it and made sure that all these special items stay intact and pristine. With expert professionals, they have done a fabulous job and I couldn’t be happier. So, if you also have a transition job to take care of recently, feel free to click on the link of sutherlandshireremovals.com.au and experience top-class service that will not just save your precious objects but also take care of the memories as well. If you want any more related info just post them below and keep following this space for more related updates. Also, feel free to share your own stories and let the readers be enthralled with your tales. Till then...

Cheers!