In the moment

The pack on my back was heavy; the weekend shopping included tins of soup, oranges, meat and red wine. The air was cold, freezing, and it was snowing very lightly. As I walked up the hill towards the mill, a car passed me.
At the mill entrance, it paused, not quite stopping but moving very slowly. Another car came up quickly behind it. It edged closer – and closer. The driver of the first car presumably noticed him and went a little faster; the driver of the second car matched him for speed, and stayed tight on his tail. I felt his impatience.
The two cars vanished round the corner. I trudged on up the hill and I thought, “That’s what dying is going to be like. So many interesting things happening, and I shall never see how they conclude.”
The wind stung my face; the snowflakes danced; beauty was all around. I remembered the affection of the friend to whom I had been talking a few minutes earlier. I had beef and wine in my backpack, and Daphne was waiting at home.
Life is good.
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