It's Friday night. And I found myself cleaning the kitchen just now, immersed in the reality of life's fragility.

In the background my husband was talking to a friend whose mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer and it could be days or weeks or months. And in my head the thoughts of the earlier conversation with my own mom spun thoughts of sadness as she is now faced with unexpectedly having to re-examine her own purpose and work life, at the age of 60.

And it made me think of all of the young people in the city tonight, at some bar, laughing and hoping and looking and searching and maybe drinking too much.

And it made me think of the nugget in his bed who has not yet had his heart broken or been disappointed by someone he loves.

And as I wiped up the soggy Cheerio that I had missed this morning and rhythmically swept the floor of all the dust and dirt from the last few days, I realized that this was all just part of it. Part of life. Part of being a human being. Letting go, being sad, celebrating on a Friday night, consoling a friend and sweeping up mushy Cheerios.

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