Today’s date is so remarkable that there will not be another one like it in any of our lifetimes. And yesterday was an important day, too: on it Old Man Ten Blankets passed quietly into memory. When Kemo Sabe returned from her daily visitation, it was clear that things had changed, changed utterly. After nearly a hundred years, and of course that means all her considerable lifetime, he was no longer alive.
The finality of death is striking and shocking; as those who read my ponderings regularly know, Uncle Jonny’s passing still plays upon my mind, and I am but a humble spaniel who knew him only briefly. What is also clear is that he lives here still, every day in our thoughts and words, our laughter and our recollections. Such is a life: springing up and falling, a fountain of possibilities. It is late but she is still here with me in the kitchen; I am the only one awake and listening to her heart. I will make sense of it for her, for all of us.
mr pip ponders 