I hear banjo music

"I hear banjo music," recited with the same tone and intonation as that famous line, "I see dead people." From that movie with Bruce Willis, that I can't remember the title, but my husband will, and I'll ask him at a more reasonable hour.

Strange, but true; the part about hearing banjo music. I'm hearing that same rolling repeat over and over, and I smile. For it's my little rolling repeat plucking, hammering and sliding along the strings; ringing in my head and echoing in my heart.

It was that little ditty that I woke to ten minutes ago. And I wonder, is it the root of this sleepless night or the blanket of background music giving me comfort?

For it was that little ditty that ran through my head as I drove the hour back and forth to my Nana's wake. It made the stop and go seem nothing as I wondered to which song, in my rather limited set, the ditty belongs to. The tones in perfect tune. The notes held for just the right amount of time. Despite holding a steering wheel in my fingers I still had the sense of moving across the strings. I'm left with the quandary of -- Traffic, what traffic? Was that rush hour? Yes, it was. For the usual 45 minutes trip took over an hour and 15 minutes; of banjo music.

It was that little ditty that kept the pace for my solitary walk the other day. When I wanted to be alone with my thoughts of Nana and all the cookies I had eaten sitting at her kitchen table. No matter when we would visit, there were always cookies, (homemade chocolate chip usually, Oreos as a back up) and milk -- and when I was older -- coffee.

And later today, that little ditty will usher me up to the lectern to recite the Prayers of the Faithful. I wish my Nana could have heard my banjo music. Being a beginner, I never thought to play for her. Perhaps maybe she can hear me now. Maybe she has heard me playing these solemn four days, and it's that ditty that makes her smile.

I think I'll play some...