The Touch

I'm tired.  The trees in the DC metro area are pollinating the air at levels that are hazardous to my health.  I began my antihistamines yesterday, did not sleep well, and still managed to have a very productive day at work.  Came home to a rare treat of having our granddaughter with us on a week night, as this is her spring break.  Lots of fun and laughs ensued, and while my energy is no match for hers, I still go for it.

I was ready to curl up with a novel, or at least catch some of the Celtics - Knicks game, but I knew I needed to connect with my guitar.  And I was happy to do so, because I know that when I hear those strings, and feel their vibrations against my chest that I receive a gift.  I'll search for the words, but am not sure that I possess them.  But after years of disciplined practice, the act of practicing nourishes me in a way that nothing else does.  Some nights like tonight, my practice is not long.  But by making that small effort, and giving what I can plus a little bit more, I become attuned to what is important in this life.  What more could anyone ask?