This morning, I awoke to the sound of the guitar floating through the house. When I came out of the bathroom, I heard Daddy singing, too.
It was so nice and comforting. This is how many days began when I was a child. When I moved out, I never thought I’d wake to that sound again.
In fact, back when I was husband scouting, “plays guitar” was on my list of criteria. Despite Tom’s claim that he plays the bass guitar, I’ve never heard him play. Sometimes my sister Amy would play guitar or ukulele when we lived together, but she was never awake in the morning.
I asked Daddy what he was playing and he told me, but I forget the name of the song. He was just fooling around while waiting for his carpool buddy to show up. This is his version of checking facebook on your phone.
I told him we were going to Virginia tonight for Tom’s cousin’s wedding tomorrow, and he said “Oh, give me a kiss then, because I won’t see you before you leave.” I obliged.
I like my dad sometimes.
I just thought up a corollary to the rule “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
“If you actually have something nice to say, say it quick before you change your mind.”