Thursday, March 29, 2007
This is how I want to die. My husband was talking to someone today who has just lost his mother. She was 102. She died from old age and exhaustion (understandable I think). Her room was bathed in French Riviera sunshine and full of spring flowers. I imagine it to have white painted shutters but maybe I am wrong; maybe the curtains were of white muslin and moved gently in the warm breeze. She shared a glass of champagne with her son in the morning. It must have been chilled. Her son went out for lunch and she slipped away while he was gone. I could do that.