I’ve had a good weekend. The littlest grandson came for a visit. Slept on the couch. Went with me to hear music. We trekked through Longhorn Cavern. Swam at the city pool. Went shopping. Three times. He has excellent cart skills. Never once did he run up on my heels. He followed patiently. Chattered the entire time. Lots of observations. He’s eight. Reads like a champ.

The good weekend got a boost last night. I’d been working with a friend, Sandi Mueller, on a song. She gave me a poem, asked me to put it to music. I did. I played it for a friend, Bill Small, a much better musician than I. He made suggestions, we incorporated them, and then last night he played the song in public. It was a little surreal hearing another musician sing a melody I wrote, but satisfying to know I was part of such a fun, collaborative effort.

Today, I take the grandson back to his mother’s loving arms and go back to my semi-solitary life. Ostensibly, I live alone, except my youngest son and middle child lives in the guest quarters, and a good group of friends are a text message away and within easy driving distance. There’s no doubt my life has changed since the death of my wife, but life in its abundant glory still surrounds me, is hard to ignore, and that eight year old boy likes having me around. So, I’m going to endeavor to be here for him, and also there might still be songs to sing.