One year ago I was about to do just what Stills sang. I was headed to the equator, to the Galápagos Islands, where I would see the actual Southern Cross for the first time.

For about a month, starting in late April and ending in late May, dozens of species of warblers pass through Louisville on their northern migration. These little birds, with wingspans of just eight or nine inches and weighing less than half an ounce, begin their journey in Central and South America. Some of them migrate more than 5,000 miles one-way to their breeding grounds in the northern United States and Canada.

I am not naturally a morning person, but I try to get up reasonably early because I like the quiet time alone with my coffee and my thoughts. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I just sit and think. This morning I happened to listen to a lesson on mindfulness. It was a discussion of a truth that most of us would rather avoid: everything we do in this life, we will do only a finite number of times.