Yesterday afternoon, I took Dad along with me on a bunch of saved-up errands. He hopped in the car, pleased to be going…well, anywhere. He patted my big dogs (they take their greeting job very seriously) and away we zoomed.

My thoughts were far away after just receiving an e-mail from my agent that a publisher rejected my proposal (grrr!), so I wasn’t talking much. Dad couldn’t come up with a full sentence but he kept trying to get a conversation going.

Finally, he said, “So, I read your…um…”

“My book?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes!” he answered, so proud of himself. “Took a week.”

I knew not to ask him questions about it, only to supply comments, because his reading comprehension is pretty well gone. But we had a fun conversation!

And I was blessed.

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