One of my oldest and dearest friends died last month, after what seemed like an all-to-brief and unfairly fatal illness; this post is about her, about friendship and about what we shared.

The other day in the car the little angel asked if the leaves HAD to die. The way she asked it broke my heart into teeny-weeny pieces. “Yes,” I said. “The leaves have to fall so that new leaves can grow in the spring. If they don’t fall off, the new baby leaves won’t be able to grow.” She thought about that for a little bit, and then murmured, “I wish they didn’t have to die, even if they are pretty.” Pretty heavy for three-and-a-half.