"Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
[From a Mary Oliver poem, and quoted here: SACRED ORDINARY]
Feeling reflective today. My almost 94-year-old grandmother is having a health issue and even though it's something she's dealt with in the past and isn't immediately life-threatening. . . it just puts thoughts in one's mind.
I was prompted to post these lines by the Sacred Ordinary post it came from -- the author of the blog was talking about how dealing with the death of loved ones can't help to bring to mind our own mortality. We always think we're going to have decades of life remaining. . . and should certainly prudently plan (retirementwise, etc.) as if we will.
But I'm trying very hard to make time for important things that always get pushed aside by work or laundry or dishes or the mindless relaxation of television viewing . . . I must carve out time to write the letter, create the scrapbook, take the pictures, call the friend or relative, play the piano, write the poem. . .