At church. There was the new daddy proudly holding his tiny child at this season of celebrating the birth of the Babe. There was the daddy of the twins, surprising me by telling me his boys were already 16 months. How did that happen so fast?
There was an unexpected announcement that Ann was in a coma in the hospital. My first thought was, she misses her son. She misses her husband, gone several years now. And oh, how I will miss her–we all will.
But you never know. She and I have compared tough-old-bird stories from time to time with a laugh.  You never know. It might not yet be her time, and hope is a strong and tangible thing at the edges of life. I wonder if the nurses at Stanford taking care of a tiny and frail old lady know who she is; I believe she was one of the original nurses there when the place was new.
They are rebuilding most of Stanford Hospital to enlarge it and to comply with the stronger earthquake codes, although I think they are keeping the beautiful architecture that faces the patients coming in the doors.
The old gives way, and the pages turn in the Book of Life.
But they stay attached at the binding.