She settled on the toast, skipping her usual morning coffee for a glass of water and then packed an apple into her bag. Today was the last day of her exams and she was feeling nervous about her prospects. A few more last-minute tidy ups, a little food for the cat and she made her way out the door into the dappled sunshine of a city Autumn day. Thoughts of her grandmother were with her as she began a steady walk to the ferry terminal. To live as long as her Nana did had surprised her after all the illnesses she'd been through, although Jennifer still felt lucky for those extra years, and yet also strangely uncomfortable with how the image of death had affected her. What if she herself had to spend the last years of her life relying on others; wasn't there a chance that it would be the same because of the genetic link.

Jennifer's mind went back to when she was a child, visiting her Nana's place with all those cotton doilies under flower filled vases and the smell of potted tea that would be served with scones and cream and jam. Jennifer's mother was always telling her to be careful as she wandered Nana's old Bluestone exploring all the little trinkets she had spread throughout the place. She was missing her now, with the funeral less than a week ago, still with some sadness and yet also with the solace of knowing that her grandmother was now at peace. Where she was she did not know, but somewhere more comfortable than where she had been.

A crowd of people narrowed into single file as they herded themselves toward the ticket box. Jennifer joined in swinging the cotton bag over her shoulder to reduce any jostling with the group that were making their way to the ferry. She went on board and then leaned against a rail for a moment to remove a book from the front pocket of her bag. Within a few minutes of the journey she found a vacant seat next to a man who had been smiling at her. He was very old in appearance and yet had a strong, almost saintly character to his face, and seeing him brought back the thoughts of her grandmother. He asked her about the book that she held in her hand. She explained that it was called The Prophet, by the author, Kahlil Gibran, and went on to tell him how special it was to her, and of the many answers it had provided to her ever-questioning mind.

"Can I have a look?" he asked.

She placed it in one of his hands as the other reached for his top pocket.

"I'll put my special reading glasses on, just for you," he told her with another smile.

He opened up the book and looked through a couple of pages towards the end and then said to her,

"Yes, I can see why it gives you answers, there are some very beautiful passages in this book."

She then surprised herself by asking him, "are you frightened of dying, uh oh, I mean, of being old?"

He looked at her with a gentle calmness and said, "How interesting you should ask, I was just reading about that very thing."

"Really!"

"Yes, would like me to read it to you?"

"Sure," she responded with lessening fervour, suddenly considering that her innate inquisitiveness may have been too bold.

He sensed this and gave a her a reassuring look. "In the part I just read, there is a question that was being asked about death," and then he began reading to her.

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one.

She gave him a searching look. "I guess there are some parts of the book that don't provide easy answers," she said.

"And why do you think that is?" he asked her.

"I'm not sure," she responded. "I mean I understand that we are all linked, like the river and the sea, but I sometimes can't shake the idea of; well you know," she looked at him reservedly, "growing old and dying." She then gathered courage and asked, "what do you think he is saying in those words?"

The old man looked at her gently. "I think that perhaps what he is teaching us is that we can not really live if we are always concerned about not living; or of one day dying. Another way to put it might be that life is about living, so we should live it instead of seeing it as something that will ultimately end. Of course, one day it will end, but do you really need to concern yourself with that now; while you're here, and alive."

"Yes, I see what you mean, it's like when he talks about the owl not being able to discover the mystery of light, the owl can't ever know that, just like we will never really know death until it happens, so there really is no point in trying to discover the answer while we are alive."

"Yes," he smiled, "I think you're getting the hang of it."

She looked at him coyly and thanked him.

They continued their conversation with him telling her that it had been thirty years since he had visited the city. He was from an industrial town about 300 miles up the coast. It's where they built a coal plant many years ago. He lamented at the iron monster which mostly destroyed the mangroves and waterways of his childhood adventures. She pondered on what modernisation had done to the planet, and of a lingering ignorance that existed towards the fragile and life-giving ecosystems of which he spoke; the natural habitats that people sometimes saw as ugly while missing their vital essence.

He talked of family, his parents, and of his Lebanese grandmother who sailed across from Europe in the 19th century, and of his wife who passed away some years ago and the two children that he now rarely saw. He showed her where his finger once was and told of an accident during his time as a tradesman. The firm he worked for gave him three weeks off, no compensation, and he was expected to return to full duties long before he felt he was ready.

She started to develop a feeling of connection with the old man as his stories meandered through her. They stopped talking at one point and for a few minutes they were both staring out into the bay - gently rocking with the ferry's motion. She felt another sense sweep over her and then imagined that they were two children on a gentle carnival ride, just watching and feeling. She looked at him once again and he smiled at her with eyes that told stories of joy.

She said to him, "it sounds like you've had an interesting life," and then asked, "have there ever been moments in your life when you've felt unhappy?"

"Oh yes, of course" he responded. "When my wife died I was shaken up for a while. We'd had so many happy years together, but even in those years we were given challenges to overcome and I think that's what made it easier for me to deal with her passing. You see, I think the key to happiness is in understanding that you can't always be happy; that life knocks you down sometimes, but if you let it worry you, then the next point of happiness can be missed, and so it goes. There's probably something in the book that talks about that."

She looked at him feeling blessed and realised that any sadness she had brought onto the ferry with her was now dissolved.

They sat there a while longer and eventually the people around them began shuffling as the ferry approached its dock.

She thanked him for the conversation and as she went to leave she said to him, "it was so lovely to meet you, my name is Jennifer."

"Thank you Jennifer, it was lovely to meet you as well, my name is Kahlil."