Firsts.

The backyard is filled with the sounds of children yelling excitedly as they run around the yard, enjoying their first beautifully sunny day of summer vacation.

One sits next to me, eating her breakfast quietly. I munch on a bowl filled with mango, banana, apple and sip on a large mug of Earl Gray.

Jason Mraz serenades us. I can't help but imagine my friend's reaction to this music choice.
"Stupid douche-bag with a guitar. Billy Joel, please?"
"I was totally at this concert!"
"Listening to Jason Mraz requires us to make a roadtrip. Where are we going?!"
A songbird of some kind sings along.

My little munchkin friend stands on her chair and dances along. I think she approves of the musical choice.

In about an hour, I have a meeting to plan the first funeral I will be involved in. She was in her mid-90s. She was the first parishioner I visited here. It's an odd thing to think about planning. I suppose once I get down to it, it'll be easier than I think it will be.

I'm finding this to be a summer of firsts.