Worried mom's mobile home won't sell. May someone care enough to love it as their own, as it was for forty years. You can't realistically live without praying these days. The baby piping plover Mavis died, and the grief I read was poetry. Also Wendell Berry, What We Need Is Here. We can't live without poetry, without poetry we can't even properly breathe. And to all the lost ones—love on your journey. We may have lost you—You are not lost.