I had just finished a book reading at a local bookstore, and the first question came from a man who was sitting toward the back of the room. He shared that he had begun a “small downsizing,” and that the first question he got from a neighbor was, “Are you getting ready to die?”
Over the weekend, I was riding my bike to one of my favorite coffee shops, which is only about 10 miles away, so it’s usually an easy ride.
But on this day, the wind was blowing “like spit,” as my grandmother used to say. (Do you ever think about things people said as you were growing up that you never thought much about, and then at some point, you begin to wonder “what on earth did that mean?”)