I visited a woman today whose death is eminent. I had a chance to take a look at her trim and neat home. I saw the plaque she received upon her retirement from decades of employment; the many needlepoint items that she obviously lovingly made (we share a love for needle arts); the New Orleans streetcar apron (the streetcar was just like the one I was riding earlier in the day) that had her name sewn at the top; family photographs; medicines; booze atop her refrigerator; sticky notes of numbers near her phone. All the things that come together to form the interests of a lifetime.

Death is a part of life, we all know. But it doesn't make it any less sad.

I hope whomever gets her handmade pillows and family photographs cherish them as she did. And that her personalized apron does not end up in a trash heap along with her old cold creams and powders.