Hope

I was glad to be alone when I encountered Christy on my evening walk. Her two boxers don’t get along with my dog and it was a relief to avoid the usual struggle of restraining Prince’s aggressive ninety-five pounds. Christy, always cheerful and talkative, seemed hesitant to speak when I asked how she was. Then she broke the news: she had buried her father just that day. A hard thing, I know, having buried both my parents. She spoke of what a wonderful man he was, loved by everyone, and fought back tears as she reminded herself that his was a happy, well-lived life. My heart ached for Christy and I hugged her on that street corner. We then went our separate ways since she was too emotional to speak further, and as I walked, I thought about this thing...