A little girl drew me a picture.
In it, I am playing a piano with a big heart on the side, beneath a large chandelier, as she stands nearby.
She was explaining all this to me when the server for her table passed by with their first course.
“Where am I?” he asked.
She looked at him like he was crazy, then pointed vaguely outside the scrap of paper that was her drawing.
“You’re somewhere over there … you’re not in the picture,” she said.
It’s nice to be the one that matters the most.
But it’s a lot nicer to be able to keep things that matter the most within frame.