My elderly neighbor and friend died this past year, a woman who had shown myself and Raphaela so much kindness.  She left behind a beautiful legacy of family, and a life lived well. 

I had not thought of her recently, and then yesterday I went to our local library chapter to take out a ballet book IE something to keep me busy as Raphaela dances and the parents are relegated to sit outside and wait.

When I opened this book, there in blue ink and an elegant script (the lost art of writing) was the name Mollie Kolatch, and I smiled.  Obviously parts of her library had been donated after her passing.

As I read I smiled even more, because this novel was compelling, intelligent and thoughtful, and I could imagine my friend sitting on her couch and enjoying this book.

I could imagine discussing the philosophical and artistic elements with her afterwards.

I actually finished the whole work in one sitting.