|My father in the 1940's|
When my son left for college he took the sounds of our home with him. The constant singing, humming, giggling between siblings and simple sounds of youth slipped out the door with him. My daughter and I tried our hands at the guitar and ukulele and realized that stringed instruments were just not our thing. I was thankful for her endless energy and took refuge in her tumbling and leaping down the hallways that, too, was a constant in our world.
I still wait for the songs of my child to return, but am thankful for the young man sent here when I most needed a joyful noise.