At the End of the Day

This morning I went on a walk around town and thought some terrible things. It all started when I thought of calling my friend Sarah to see if she wanted to have lunch, something we promised we would do but never did. But then I remembered that she shot herself in the head a year ago, and I wondered if she were any happier now.  The last time I saw her was in the Hannaford's supermarket, right in front of the poultry section at the end of the ethnic foods aisle. We stood and talked for quite a while, causing a bit of a traffic jam and making people go around us. Finally we agreed that we had to get together for lunch and went our separate ways, each shouting out, "Call me!" That was about a week before she decided she had had quite enough of everything.

I don't flatter myself by thinking that if I had called her and if we had met for lunch that Sarah would still be here today, but let's face it--she might. Every little thing touches every other other little thing in ways we cannot imagine, so who knows? We never know when the last time we saw someone really was the last time. Or when that innocuous straw that fluttered by, looking just like all the others, is the very one that will break the camel's back. We never know a lot of things, but still we go through each day acting like we know it all.