I love to sing and frequently will get snippets of song lyrics stuck in my head, often for days at a time. Over the past few days, this line has been repeating itself from a favorite John Prine tune: "My car is stuck in Washington and I cannot find out why. Come sit beside me on the swing and watch the angels cry."
The tune is catchy and that line cracks me up every time. But it was a difficult concept to explain to the three-year old grandbaby, who piped in from the other room upon hearing me sing this to myself while making supper last night, "Why are the angels crying, Grandpa?" She came into the kitchen looking genuinely troubled.
Why indeed? I didn't quite know what to say. I told her they couldn't find their car.
"But they'll find it, right?" she insisted. I assured her the angels would likely find their missing car very soon. "That's good," she said with a relieved expression. "I don't want angels to cry."