The sun rose again this morning bright and optimistic of the pale blue sky.

And I roll sleepy eyed out of my bed.

Tomorrow is the big day.

We bury our dead.

So how can it be that today breaks as quietly as any day?

The birds do no seem to notice what is impending.

The squirrels patter on the roof hiding their acorns for the winter that is surely coming.

The cars drive by in the distance as people wake and go about their day, their work.

Somewhere there is a mother in labor sitting in the mounting traffic.

As the world stretches out in its ordinary way.

How can this be?

People born. People dying.

And the world hardly bats an eyelid.

As if it might not all end tomorrow.