Later Living Reflected in a Single Hour

Xmas C_060

I met a woman yesterday, yet I feel I’ve known her most of my life. Brigid never left her home area of Glenmore, Ireland and I’ve never been there. We met through William Trevor, her creator, in his short story, The Dancing-Master’s Music.

Trevor’s characters reveal themselves in traits so vivid yet common that we’re forced to compare them with people we know. ‘This guy is just like Pete from work,’ we might think. Or we may feel that we want to meet and talk with them. His people seduce us into their lives.

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Uh-oh

This morning I was at my desk working on a blog post when I noticed music playing nearby. It was a little too loud, and it seemed to be coming from another room. I got up, walked to the doorway and hollered for Barbara, “That music you’re playing—where is it coming from?”

“I’m not playing music,” she answered from the back of the house.

So I looked around nearby rooms, found nothing, then returned to my desk only to discover the music coming from my computer. Uh-oh, I thought.