Weekend Freewrite Single Prompt - Callus

I heard the familiar sound creeping up the stairwell and into my bedroom. I followed it down and into the living room where my Dad sat strumming his six string guitar on the couch.

Crawling up beside him, my feet dangling, the warm music filled room. He smiled down at me, and switched to one of my favorite songs, "Grandma's Feathered Bed". I sang it out loudly knowing all the words, when it was done I nuzzled into his shoulder.

"Dad, can I have a try?" I asked.

"Sure, Squirrel Bait." He slid the guitar from his lap to mine, and I did my best to swing my small arm over the hard wood.

"Ouch!" I said as I pressed my fingers against the stiff cords. He chuckled.

"Well, doesn't it hurt your fingers too?" I asked looking up at his smile.

"It used to hurt, but it hasn't for awhile now."

"Why? What happened?"

"I grew calluses," he said as he extended his hand to mine so I could feel the rough patches of skin on each of his fingertips.

This is a collective memory of all the times I heard my Dad playing his guitar, and me running to go sing with him. 😊 His callused fingers still amaze me!