Seven of them emerged noiselessly from the woods at twilight one night-seven sets of tall ears against a bright scarlet sky. Beyond our gaze, island creatures had fallen into a February rhythm. Hibernating alligators, dug deep into the mud, listened to their hearts beat once every seven minutes. Loggerhead turtles rested up for spring, when thousands of their young would hatch and move toward water, guided by the light of the horizon. The babies would all emerge within 24 hours of one another and help each other along, but still only two or three out of every thousand would survive.
Life is tenuous at best.
We remembered that at meals. We prayed for Steve, who had died of AIDS, and Joanne and Ginny, who were losing their battles with cancer. We brought into our midst the presence of hospice patients and abused women and sick children. Joy and pain-that uneasy mix. I think it's wonderful.