About that one tiny thing that seems silly to you. Conversations large and small, uplifting and sorrowful. I have a hunch that many of us adults are wandering around just like Patsy, hopeful that our lonely wandering at all hours of the figurative night will magically bring about the chance conversation we want so desperately to have-in this case, not with a mysterious suitor, but with our loved ones. That’s the essence of sharing in life with others. But why wouldn’t we? Topics that are difficult to make sense of warrant all sorts of conversation over time. We’ll surely talk about this song and much more over time. I don’t expect that that conversation would ever be enough for him to grasp what was going on. It’s been a week since our first lesson in figurative language. Patsy is sad, and she’s looking for a different way to say that.” “Well, why do you think she’s saying that? Why would anyone say that?” “Now, does that make any sense? A weeping willow crying?” We were driving around when Wilson first heard it, and I caught a quizzical look crossing his face in the mirror. It’s a lovely, clever image, and also a quite confusing one for a four year old. Cline, I sincerely hope you learned your lesson after decades of being positively rotisseried). First, y’all didn’t tell me about Patsy Cline and I’m upset. So you can easily imagine how his ears would perk up upon hearing Patsy Cline’s “After Midnight.” (Let me pause here for a minute. And its drooping branches are a marked contrast to what he sees in the nearby oaks, pines, and Bradford pears (which I think should be banned, but that’s another post). It’s a young tree-I’d guess 10-12 years old. On our neighborhood walks, one feature that repeatedly catches Wilson’s eye is a weeping willow tree a few houses down.
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