A woman who lived in my apartment complex died yesterday. She was the first one here who was kind to me and it made me hopeful for getting older.

She always dressed in bright colors and I loved watching her walk around the courtyard in purple and turquoise and orange - usually at the same time. It always looked amazing. She cut her white hair short, but left long curls in front, which she'd often pin back with brightly colored butterfly barrettes.

I loved that although she had pretty severe congestive heart failure, she was not afraid to make big plans. She was very into massage and yoga and creating a healthy lifestyle.

When I heard things weren't going so well a few weeks ago, I went over to her house but no one was home. I left a message saying I was thinking of her and if she needed anything. When I ran into her later that evening, she said she was out seeing friends and insisted she didn't need any help going to the store or company at the doctor. Ok!

I saw her a couple times since then, and dropped by earlier this week but she wasn't home again. The last time I saw her, she was sitting on a hill on an orange yoga mat, wrapped in a bright red blanket, drinking in the sun. Her eyes were closed and I didn't want to disturb her.

And that's how I'll remember her.