My sister and I have a mutual facebook friend we met in a writing group. Someone we don’t “really” know. I’ve read and enjoyed some of her writings, her posts show up in my newsfeed. Sometime after David Bowie died, she wrote that all these wonderful people dying “just want to make me live that much harder.” I liked that but I don’t think I *liked* it. This weekend my sisters and their kids were all in town visiting. Most of you know my mother is terminal with cancer, she has good days and bad days, still more good than bad. This weekend mostly good, and we were all chatting over games at the kitchen table. I checked facebook on my phone and found a post from the friend I don’t know. She was glad and apparently lucky to be alive after a head on car collision. I told my sister and she got on her phone and we were reading comments and thinking about and worrying over this friend we don’t know. As we learned that she was hurt but expected to make a full recovery, she was brought into the room with us, with me and my sister. Her inspiring attitude as, already, this devastating event in her life was being framed as a reminder that life is precious, as an opportunity to recover and then live that much harder. As we were doing in our own way, highly aware of how precious time together with our mother is, turning the unfortunate circumstances of her illness into a chance to live that much harder, by wildly screaming over Yahtzee rolls.