The weather has been very odd. The feel of late spring has taken the place of most of our winter here. This weekend, the temperatures are dipping back down to what they should have been the whole time. It will be cold enough to really damage all of the beautiful things that have emerged in the past few weeks.
Tonight, at dinner with my parents, a woman behind our table was eating with her family when she suddenly slumped over. Her son held her up while her daughter called an ambulance. She was completely unresponsive the entire time. After what seemed like forever, one of the waiters asked the room if there was a doctor present. A nurse appeared and everyone whisked the woman behind the closed doors of the bar area. The silence that overcame the room was thick, almost humid, as if people were afraid to speak. It was hard to eat after that, even when we saw her conscious again, being wheeled out by several paramedics. How can you just carry on after that like nothing happened?
When the frailty of existence is exposed like that, it gives one pause. Will the flowers survive the weekend? How will that woman’s week (or entire life) change from this one dinner? We go on about our business as if we are invincible, like tomorrow is guaranteed.
It’s not. We are frail.