I remember the day Kyle came to play. I was about four, so it didn't seem strange to me that I should be playing with a boy I had never met before. That was a pretty frequent occurrence in the early 'sixties, at least where I grew up. Being an only child, I never complained about someone wanting to play with me.

That he was wearing his pajamas and robe in the day time didn't seem odd to me, nor that his father carried him through the front door and sat him down in front of me. Four-year-old boys seem to question the oddest of things, while being totally incurious about matters an adult wouldn't let pass.

I vaguely recall we had a fun time playing with my construction set that day, more than fifty years ago. At some later time, possibly that same evening, I was told that Kyle was very sick. That explained the pajamas. A couple of weeks later, my parents informed me that Kyle wouldn't be coming to play any more.

Looking back, my brief friendship with Kyle taught me some things - like how life is such a fragile thing and, for some, so terribly short. What a pity it is that most of us waste so much of it worrying about inconsequential things, like how much money we have, or if our house is the biggest and best in the street, or whether those in our social group think we're clever, or pretty, or cool. The other thing is how others, whether they be those we love or strangers, might be dealing with things of which we have no comprehension. Perhaps it doesn't hurt us to try and exercise kindness where we can. A tiny action on our part that improves someone's day might end up being of great importance to them.

I miss Kyle, even though I only met him once, and I miss a time when life seemed so much simpler.