Sarah

I visited my friend Sarah today. She will be 88 years old in May. “I don’t want to live anymore,” she said. We were looking through the clothes she had stored in a beautiful cedar chest. Clothes she wore and loved and each of them attached to a memory. She gave them to me, if I would like to have them, or I could give them away. We went through clothes stored in a different cedar chest months ago. This is the first time I have heard Sarah say she does not want to live. And understand why. And I am sad.