This Quiet.

In my afternoon, I began writing truth to quiet all the commotion–the crowded chatter of my mind a whirl with deadlines and to-do's. Almost finished, I was brought present by the sing-song quiet ringtone of my new phone; still an unfamiliar sound.

It was an almost stranger; the distant daughter-in-law of our former sweet neighbor Mary. She was calling to tell me that she passed away on January 01. And in our awkward quiet, she interrupted my processing of the truth with:

She always insisted that she would die in January. She always seemed to have it her way.

And we both laughed. Because she did, and that made knowing and neighboring her such a splendid treasure. She lived so loudly, bold in her age in wisdom–and born to die.