I woke this Monday morning to find a message from my friend sitting on my phone.
Except it wasn't my friend. It was his wife. She was going through her husband's phone, making sure that everyone knew that he passed on Saturday from a heart attack.
I resisted my security worker's compulsion to ask for authentication; instead, my friend became Schrodinger's friend too, wandering within some limbo within my own mind. Still, the reality of who my friend was to me washed through me, and I replied in kind: We had much in life, station, and hobbies, in common, but above all else, he was an unassuming friend. We shared a "Hey, I was just thinking about you!" connection, and he had the uncanny timing to come and find me precisely when I felt lost or disconnected,
... and it was clear to me that all of this is what remains with me.
As I sat outside with my coffee, lost in thought over the loss of a friend, a small bird landed on the ladder behind me. It jumped up and down a rung at a time, just a foot or two from my face, pausing on each to scream at me.
It snapped me out of my funk, and I smiled on knowing Its name.
May we all be so fortunate as to find what we need embodied in our fellow human beings, however briefly, and may our hearts and eyes open to recognizing that presence everywhere and always.