I look at myself, my rapidly aging body, my limited range of ability, and ask, What, really, is within my power? And the answer is, Decency. At home, online, or in the grocery store, I can be polite, I can smile, I can be kind, I can be considerate, I can be sympathetic, I can offer my help without being asked. I can listen. I can remember that everyone I meet has his or her own private story and struggle, pain that is hidden, grace that is alive. And I will tell you something: When I am out and about in this world — and that when is ever and always and now — I feel as if my heart is broken and breaking for love, the beautiful in and out of it, the above and below and the through of it. My heart has a life of its own. Its doors and windows and walls have fallen away. Its roof is gone. If it is madness, then it is a madness I embrace. If it is blindness, then I am blind to my disgrace. If it is the watchman on his last round before dawn, then soon, perhaps even now, I will dream myself awake.