We went to the viewing yesterday for the recently departed lady who cleaned my home. She was 57. I have no idea why disease claimed her so young. I have no idea if she regularly saw doctors. I have no idea if she had health insurance. Basically, I have no idea how she lived her life. She was obviously well liked. There was a large crowd at the funeral home of mostly young people, and I knew no one except the couple with whom I attended the event. The slide show that ran to the left of her casket was full of pictures of happy people. She was a nice lady.

Afterwards, my friends and I met friends of theirs in Blanco for a glass of wine and dinner. Again, I knew no one except my friends. Several of the ladies knew my late wife, but that’s not unusual. She, too, was well liked and made friends, easily. Eventually, the conversation flowed toward music because I’ve recorded at my friends studio, he and his wife attend various pickers circles in and around Blanco, and they always suggest I play there. I’ve never been inclined to join any of them. I have no idea why. I suppose I should, if for no other reason than to broaden my circle of friends, and it might be fun.

So. this time I believe I’ll pursue their suggestion and make my way down there to play. It can be part of my new Guadalupian period. Not necessarily a leaving-behind, but more of an adding-to. A molt into a new skin for this new phase of my life, a move into new territory. Because death is coming as it comes to us all, and songs and writing might be a nice bow to tie onto the package of my life. A way, literally and figuratively, to wrap it up.