"I stopped talking and stared into the distance. "Hold on," I whispered. "I think I'm about to be brilliant." -Nina Tanleven, The Ghost Wore Gray" - Bruce Coville

As it turned out, he was wrong about that. The last guest didn't show up until we were eating our dessert.
That was when the ghost sat down in the empty chair-directly across from me.

My heart seeks the hearth,
My feet seek the road.
A soul so divided
Is a terrible load.

My heart longs to rest,
My feet yearn to roam.
Shall I wander the world
Or stay safe at home?

(L)ittle is debated with greater ferocity than the question of what the creator owes the creation. Some feel you must hover over it, guarding it every moment. Others believe the highest, hardest, and most important task is to let go. They say that just as the parent must at some point release the child to the world, the creator must release the creation. Otherwise you stop it in its tracks, strangle its growth. Then you become not only its creator, but its executioner.