By Jack Rowell
Last night I awoke just before midnight to a crash of thunder. All day the air had been close and damp, until finally the sky just ripped apart. I stood at the window, watching the lightening and listening to the steady patter of rain and thinking about my friend Margaret, now in her hundredth year of life. She missed the Tuesday writing group yesterday, and we missed her. I am holding her close to my heart today. I love what she has to say in the 2-minute video we made last winter, which I've titled "A Little Light Goes On." To see it, click here.