I was having breakfast with a Dr. who was talking about some of his patients who had cancer for which there was no turning back.
My father had been a patient like that for some other doctor, so I understood a little of what he was saying. I could imagine what it was like for him.
Eventually the subject changed. We moved on to something more glib and easy. Our kids. Movies we’d seen recently. The greatness of “Catastrophe.”
I don’t know how, but somewhere, in the middle of a laugh, I said, “Well, it’s not like we won’t be doing this again.” Meaning the breakfast that had just arrived.
He laughed too, but said, “Actually, even if we do have breakfast again, this will be not just the last time, but the only time, we have this one.”
It made every blueberry I had that morning sweeter than ever.