Two Fridays ago, Cicley Tyson recounted her 96th birthday celebration to me. In the days that followed, surrounded by dozens of bouquets of flowers, she realized, “I can’t move in my house! I turn, and there’s one more beautiful than the other.” There was laughter, and a short but precious pause: “At least I’m getting them now!” I was hoping—metaphorically, of course—that this piece would be another. And yet, what a gift our brief time together will forever be to me.