It isn’t difficult, of course, to skip the nostalgia, to fast forward the embarrassment of memory, to speak, as others do, of calcium rather than satori. So, the morning I heard, it wasn’t difficult to turn efficient, to delete pictures of humming birds and cardamom tea and the air ticket you emailed me, never knowing it would be the one to your funeral. It gets easier, friend, with age, to delete, plan breakfast, turn the page. It would have been easier still if you hadn’t deleted the sun.
