Sometimes we need to be reminded of what's important. Sometimes we even need to be told when something is reminding us. One Saturday night last winter at the wake of my cousin's (and best friend) grandmother, I overlooked a potentially insightful moment. I could have been reflecting on death and how one day that pale, cold body would be me, but my mind was a zillion miles away.

Selfishly, I was complaining about the fact that the wake was on a Saturday night. I guess Lindsay's grandmother hadn't checked my social calendar before she died. Didn't she know there was a party tonight? Sure I cried. I hadn't known her well, but I cried nonetheless. But I wasn't completely there. I kept wondering what my friends were doing. What a snob.

About a week later, I was driving through South Boston to my cousin's house with her little brother, who was five. It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining, making even the blackened, dingy side-of-the-street snow sparkled. Well, it kind of sparkled. The air was fresh and clean. At least as fresh as South Boston air can be. The clouds were a purpley-white and like fluffy cotton. My little cousin had been quiet for a while, and silence wasn't his strongest point. As we rolled to a stop at a busy intersection, he finally broke his silence.

"Do you think Grammy's lookin' down from those clouds way up there? 'Cuz I know she's in heaven. She's just gotta be. She always was givin' me candy and presents and stuff. She was nice like that. Boy, I miss her sometimes."

I would bet a million dollars none of us has thoughts like that anymore. When we grow up, even me at the ripe old age of 16, we seem to lose interest in things like that. Rather it's what you have to do next and how much time you have to do it. If we stopped and thought like five-year-olds, maybe we'd all think just a little simpler and deeper. c