Grounded

The first time I was in Israel on one of the innumerable stops at stores full of every imaginable thing carved out of olive wood, I picked up a little angel playing a guitar. Well, okay it's really a lute. But basically the lute is an early guitar. (Side note: At some point in my life my guitar playing was disparaged by the notion that I should have applied myself to a serious instrument that makes “real” music - like the piano. But wouldn't you know it, the guitar predates any keyboard instrument by like a thousand years or something. So it would seem it was real before “real” instruments were. At all!) Anyway, my little angel has managed to keep up with me. No small feat there. But in the chaos he has lost his wings. Will they ever be found again? Who knows? But I doubt it. But he's still playing his guitar! My ears can't hear him, but that seems to be a problem that is going around. I wonder if my living angel friends ever get to play the guitar. Harps maybe? I hope they still have their wings. I know I'm a real pain for them to keep up with.