AARP Eye Center
In retirement, my grandfather, Pop Pop, traveled the world with my grandmother. They went to Greece, China, Peru, Portugal — you name it. They’d spent years running a small business and raising three kids, so retirement was their chance to get away and see it all.
A selfie can’t change the world — or can it, just a little?
I used to cringe when the staff at Pop Pop’s nursing home called him "Sweetie."
I looked out at the setting sun, and twisted the ring Pop Pop gave me, the one I always wear on my right hand.
If you’ve sobbed through The Notebook, we’d probably be friends.
Pa’ Noi manages the neighborhood restaurant that my boyfriend, Joe, and I love here in Thailand, where I’m doing part of my master’s program in gerontology.
Two years ago this month, I sat beside my Pop Pop as he died. I can’t help but cry as I type that, but this isn’t a sad story.
We arrived with jasmine garlands and two rosettes folded out of Thai baht. We slipped off our sandals and felt the cool, smooth tiles beneath us as we walked toward a woman sitting on her front porch.
Nobody knew much about Roger. His niece had dropped him off at the nursing home one day, saying there was a family emergency. Could they keep him overnight?
The Post-it note on the box said, "Little things. Wanna look?"