4/7/26 I dragged myself to the gym the other morning, feeling tired, a bit dull and listless. At the co-housing community where I live, the gym faces west, with a sweeping mountain view just beyond the courtyard. As I walked in, the weight room was calling me. Yet I found myself drifting toward the windows—some small act of conscious procrastination. I glanced out into the courtyard and stopped. There, just below, was the memorial shrine created for Loretta, a longtime member

I’m running up and down the stairs with miscellaneous items in my hands; mail, toiletries, books, and one orphaned sock. Aiming to get...