An elderly Asian man
finds a seat near me
on the Route 550 to Bellevue.
About every third breath,
he emits a deep Buhhhh
from low in his throat.
This eruption shivers me,
though less than I might
have expected. He is not
so much older than I.

By the time we cross
Lake Washington, I quietly
try on a sympathetic
Buhhhh, about every
third breath. It’s not
so bad when you
get used to
it.

You can learn a lot when given a moment’s opportunity to step into another’s shoes. Further, it seems to me that any chance to practice aging and, gulp, dying, is invaluable. And, ultimately, life affirming.