Where Is The Love?

So, I’m sitting at the supper table with my daughter and she’s insisting that she’s not hungry, trying to delay bedtime, long after Scully and I have finished the meal.

I can’t help ruminating: My paternal grandmother visited my brother for years and my maternal grandmother still visits and guides my sister. Neither of the two visits me! There have been a couple of isolated incidents. I see ghosts for other people ALL THE TIME but not my own grandmothers?

My preschooler daughter is pushing food around in her bowl while asking me to not be upset that she’s not eating. Distractedly, I assure her that I’m only upset because I love her and I don’t want her to be hungry while we’re all sleeping. Besides, I’m not really upset; I’m worried. By now, I must be staring into space.

“Yes!” I think, “One should have visited me by now!”

Suddenly, the A-string on my guitar — across the room — sounds beautifully and I’m stirred from my thoughts. The very interesting part? The note does not run its course; it stops less than halfway through.