At the top we hold hands and take deep breaths.
I’m not sure why I pick it up, but I sense there are reasons.
I pluck a stem of sagebrush and crush it under my nose with my fingers.
At work, I listen to a student tell me that she doesn’t know why she is alive, and can’t find other students who will listen to her predicament.
I fuss with image files to fit them in an e-newsletter.
I edit an academic paper for my daughter, who is in graduate school at the university where I work.
At church I feel the tears welling behind my eyes as we stand in line to receive communion.
A mystery is being completed in us as we eat bread dipped in wine.
I get a call telling me it’s time to drive 400 miles north to my home town because a friend of mine is dying.
We were friends for 44 years.
That makes me laugh.