Ten-Finger Exercises

A better week at work

Ever since I came back from the retreat, I've been enjoying my job more and feeling like I've done a better job too. I thought about it today, and how miserable I was, and how I had thought, "Oh well, what else can I do?" And I wondered if burglars feel the same way. They probably do. After a certain age, it's not only hard to change careers, but it's hard to believe you have what it takes to learn something different.

Today I went to one of those very rare things, "a good death." The man was ready to go, he'd been saying that for a week. He'd been in a lot of pain, and the pain was now controlled, but not the weakness. He was surrounded by over a dozen family members. He was breathing through his mouth, ineffectively, and so they removed his oxygen. They circled his bed in silence, and his oldest daughter read prayers in Spanish. It began to snow, which he had been hoping for. The prayer ended, and he died.