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put away my violin.

I was feeling very, very tired myself. The

emotional drain was deeper than I had imagined.

Maybe I was just very depressed, but almost before I

let my head fall back on the pillow, my eyes closed,

and the next thing I knew, the light of morning was

brightening my room.

The house was quiet. When I glanced at my

clock, I saw it was well after nine. We usually left for

church between eight and eight-thirty. I rose, washed,

and dressed as quickly as I could. When I descended the stairs, I found Mommy had left a note for me on

the refrigerator door.

Daddy and I decided to let you sleep this

morning. There's pancake batter in a bowl in the

refrigerator. Eat a good breakfast. We'll see you after

church.

I wondered where Grandad was. I was certainly

not in the mood for any of his hell and damnation

speeches and had made up my mind that if he started

on me and Chandler, I would either walk away or tell

him to mind his own business. My indignation fueled

my courage and fired up my anger. I marched around

the kitchen, slamming pans and silverware harder than

necessary. I needed noise. The silence made it feel as

if the world was closing in on me.

I ate deliberately, chewing hard, swallowing

and digging my fork into my pancakes as if I had to

kill each one before I could eat it. All the while I had

my eyes fixed on that doorway, anticipating my

Grandad's entrance, but he did not come. Winding