I've been thinking a lot about commitment lately and how bonds between people change over time. Jason and I found each other almost 14 years ago and we were married in 1994 and have a deeply rooted history together. This does not mean that there are not moments when I want to send him on the next Greyhound bus with a one way ticket to someplace far away, but those moments are few and far between. The truth is that I can't imagine a life without him. Even though he is a terrible slob, he is also incredibly giving and kind and he makes me try to be a better person.

That old Beatles song When I'm 64 is our song. I know there are no guarantees in this lifetime, but I am fairly sure that we are destined to grow old together and plant a few more gardens and sing a few more songs. And laugh.

Life is funny. Some people get 90 years. Some people commit suicide at 48, like our friend Joanie McGowan who was a local activist and playwright. Some babies don't even get a few minutes, like Dylan. And it is the one thing that is not ruled by money or income. At least not directly.

I have learned that love is a powerful balm. It saddens me that Joanie did not see how respected and loved she was by so many here. I didn't even know her directly, but I knew of her and our paths almost crossed a few times. I had heard of some of the projects she had worked on and she was one of those people I figured I would eventually befriend. And then about a week ago, after seeking help for depression, her body was found in the Greenway. Suicide. This beautiful woman must have heard that "God closed his eyes and the whole world got mean," but if she could have seen the outpouring of love that followed her death, she would have seen the definition of hope. I'm sad that she did not see it.

But that is the message. We are all loved by someone and that is enough when you think about it.