It made me painfully aware of the fact that I'm 39 and pregnant.
Later, I sat at a sidewalk cafe and watched a couple, who had to be in their eighties, hunched over and briskly walking down the street in snappy, matching outfits, bronzed skin and snow-white hair. They were tiny and magnificent and hand-in-hand.
They made me painfully aware of my mother's death at age fifty nine. And what my dad might've felt like when she was suddenly gone after almost thirty years of togetherness.
At the cafe, I also overheard two friends' conversation. They were complaining about the beginnings of wrinkles and grey hair.
It made me painfully aware of another close friend, who was recently told by her doctor that because of a health condition, she may not live a very long life. She has two small children.
There are babies being born and not being born; people living long lives and others living shorter ones; there are perfectly healthy people and there are sick people. There are people who are happy and there are some who are sad or lonely or heartbroken.
Life is beautiful and terrible. I wish Sabine would stay small forever. With a heart that never gets broken.