He wants to play like Chris Thile, wants his fingers to fly across the strings, wants the notes to dance. We gave him a little mandolin for Christmas, an armful of song. His excitement is contagious — what could be! The little polished bit of rosewood is a dream, a possibility. It reminds me of my first typewriter. No one adds a letter to the alphabet or a note to the scale, yet all the books ever written, all the songs ever sung spilled out of that limited set. It is incredible that we haven’t exhausted the possibilities, that anything new could ever be! Amazing, too, that there could ever be a new human being, a new personality, a new face. How are we not all repeats?
Today you will probably say sentences never said before, think thoughts never thunk. The world will be richer for it.
In my living room the mandolin is plunked. Not really much of a song yet. Wait for it…
Catherine's Letters 
Yay! I love the mandolin! I told Miss A that she and I should practice to play Christmas songs next year on the piano and flute. I’d love to have a mandolin player too. 🙂
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