Earlier today I was writing a few notes of the thoughts that were coming to me. “These moments are a gift. They are precious.” These notes were totally independent of the events that would play out.
Today was supposed to be the day that Mary caught up with her daughter, Jamie, to have a little birthday dinner (or something). Jamie, true to a long-standing nineteen-year-old norm, cancelled the meeting, leaving her sister to be picked up by her father and arranging for the delivery of the presents Mary bought. Mary was in tears.
Some of these moments are terribly hard. I find myself considering this situation rather thoroughly, and earnestly wishing better for all of us.
