Grandmother sits on a low wall looking down over the town. Magpie hops onto the wall beside her. They sit quietly for a while.
“You’ve been out here all day,” says the novice.
“That’s how meditation works.”
“I knew a man named Sam,” she says, softly. “Today Sam rarely did Tomorrow Sam any favors. Tomorrow Sam often had sharp words for Yesterday Sam. So Today Sam closed the door and lived alone in the present.”
The day grows old and dies.