On Leaving

After the movie, my friend Boo said, several times, that she really wanted a puppy. She has said this before since her Dandy died several years ago. She doesn't remember saying it, but she remembers Dandy and she knows she loves dog.

"Oh, Boo," I said.

"I know."

"Is that a good idea? You could trip over a puppy. You know they're always under your feet."

"Yes. But it just wouldn't be fair;" then she added, "To the dog. I'd probably die before the dog. And then who'd care for him?"

A bit later, on leaving, the misted windshield, the blurred streetlight, the receding car gave me pause.

Mortality in Mind

Seven years ago tomorrow, my sister-in-law of 43 years died, at the height of leaf season in the Western Carolina mountains, where she took in the view one last time.

I took in a favorite view today and thought of her, and of her children, and of her grandchildren, and of all who knew her.

If this is the last thing I see, it is enough.