Today I followed a car down 19th Avenue. It had fresh stickers on the rear and front windows: FUNERAL

Since January 1, death has been my companion theme, I don’t know why.

Perhaps it reached a climax yesterday when I discovered incorrectly that death was at my door: Sweetie, he said, it’s your turn.

I got the opportunity to experience my reaction to such momentous news. Though I was stricken, there were no tears or self-pity. Some regret about not learning how different story lines turn out, some concern about my kids and about the expense and inconvenience of the obligatory fight against death. Otherwise I was flying full velocity: Cool! So this is the next adventure!

I can’t believe I’m writing that. I can’t believe it’s true. But that indeed is what happened.