sparrows

This morning, P's beloved granddad died. We went to the flat soon after we heard, to say goodbye to him before the funeral home sent a car to take his body away. His wife (P's magnificent grandma) said he'd been drinking a coffee and eating a slice of cake; she left the room for a few moments and when she returned, the mug and plate had slipped out of his hands and he was gone. Other family members arrived soon after we did, including P's sister and brother-in-law, who brought along P's beautiful little niece. She is 17 months old, all blonde curls and self-possession, and she lightened the mood so beautifully with her giggles and games. When P and I got back to our own place, we really just wanted to spend time with each other, contemplating life and enjoying the few days we have left together in Jo'burg.

Just over two weeks before I leave for Maine, and at times like these I'm struck by an extraordinary sense of the circle of life, of death and birth and death and birth. I said to P yesterday, we're all sparrows who fly in one window and out the other, it's as brief and ecstatic as that. And the purpose? To me, life's purpose is life itself, wanting more life, hungering after the experience of life, never getting enough of it, and perhaps making peace with the brevity of it.