Anyone Who Had A Heart

   Some hard days lately. With the Weaver at her mother's death-bed, in anguish, not knowing when, only soon. The beauty of our early summer's days seems to be mocking this winter of our discontent. Things will be better again, and life will resume, but with a big piece missing. What is worse- to lose someone suddenly, or slowly? I wish I could make it all right, but in reality it is all right. It is just hard. Everyone's heart is tested; sometimes it is a grand passion, violent and cathartic, other times it is a slow ache that never seems to end. That may be the lesson in a situation such as this- heartache is part of being human so we should live with a glad heart while we may, open to others and not isolated or rejecting.

   It is the only life we have.