A friend lost a dear friend this week to cancer—I knew her, too, years ago, and she glowed with life and love. Even 3000 miles away, I have thought of Donne’s words that “no man is an island” and one death can diminish us all. After she died, there was a whole series of photos of their friendship, starting twenty five years ago. It was beautiful. And I realized—I don’t take pictures of my people. Plants, dinner, trails, my van… but not my friends. So, today, at the Hot Cross Buns celebrate, we gathered in front of the camellia tree for a group photo. The last one was when Isaac was two and a half feet tall. It was time. Because if I do not, who will?