This week has been extraordinarily difficult and sad. PRH's Grandmother, a wonderful woman whom PRH and I both adore, is very ill. As is always the case when I'm upset about something, I haven't been sleeping well. I had been up for hours by the time I took these photos early yesterday morning. I stood in our yard alone, looking over the foggy hills that surround us, and thought not only about the ephemerality of life, but also about continuity. Living in a 130-year-old home is a subtle, daily reminder that life is short- many have lived here before us and, hopefully, others will live here after us. I've never been one to find comfort in the quiet of mornings- yesterday was a notable exception. Later that afternoon, as PRH and I walked out of the hospital doors, we slowed to watch a new mother trying to calm her tiny, crying infant. There again, a beautiful little reminder of the continuity of life...a reminder that the end for one is matched by the beginning for another.
Here's to an incredible woman and to a life well-lived. In her honor, I hope you'll hold your babes a bit closer today.