Tweak

Yesterday I changed the strings on my guitar for the first time in months. The strings were strange––there must have been a mistake made at the factory, for they were not the usual light bronze D'Addarrio strings. I had trouble all evening keeping the guitar in tune. This morning, Tom said, "That got me to thinking that if musical instruments are so sensitive, how much more so are human beings? And yet––and here's something to be hopeful about––if you just tweak a little, everything suddenly works. Everything suddenly sounds like singing."

We have had a really great family day. In a couple of hours, I am leaving with the kids to go to Kripalu to co-lead a retreat called Powerful Women, Powerful Voices. I should be packing. Upstairs, Elle should be napping, but I hear her feet racing back and forth across the hall. Jay is climbing up on the shelves and pulling down puzzle pieces with wooden handles. Tom is right outside washing our windows. He came in to take a break and chat with me as I worked on Pillow Face. We watched Jay scramble around, and Tom said, "I'm glad he's going to have the outdoor season to learn to walk."

I had a writing teacher once who was a big astrology buff, and she swore by the birth charts of all her friends. She confessed to me that she actually didn't know if it was astrology or simple development; after all, she argued, it must have a huge impact when one takes one;s first steps: inside on carpet or outside on young grass, or outside in tall grass, or whatever. Or maybe it's what you hear first: the sounds of young peepers or the honks of geese flying south for the winter.