In a photo on my wall, a rusted rake leans against a post in a vegetable garden overgrown with weeds. I took the picture several months after my mother died and there was no one to care for her usually tended garden. One afternoon, she had leaned her take against a post, walked to the house, and never returned.
The photo says two things to me about work: First, I must do it while I can. Second, I must keep it in perspective and not make it more important than it is. And Because my days are numbered, I must spend each one as I should.