We Fly Away

I got a phone call in the middle of the day from a dear friend’s daughter.

I never get phone calls from her daughter, Why was she calling?

Her mother had passed away after complications from a back surgery. I was on the list of people her mom left to call.

Gone.

I was planning to see my friend at the end of the month—to sit in her kitchen, to eat yet again at her table, to talk of life and love and children and grandchildren. To laugh together.

Never another visit.

The ephemeral nature of life is nothing new. Ancient texts console and guide—

We are like a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

We are like grass that springs up in the morning and by evening it is withered.

We fly away.

Teach us to number our days that we may have a heart of wisdom.

And we hope and pray that the work we have done lives on, in some way.