When I was trailing behind the ambulance on that morning in late May, winding through the same tree-lined road where I had first learned to drive a car, I found myself more present than I had been in years. Painfully present. One of my best friends, Alex, was in that ambulance, just as my other friend, Mikki, had been 10 years earlier. The day before, I was staring out at the mountains of Western Massachusetts with a group of girlfriends. The very same mountains that had cradled me in my youth. I was marveling at the way the greens shifted in shade, and how the light streaked golden on the Hopper Trail as the sun took its leave for the day. I meditated on Mikki, and how she used to regularly gasp in awe at this very view. Later on, Alex told me, unprompted, that Mikki was my guardian angel. I very much believe this to be true.