At 32, I didn’t expect to move into my mom’s basement. I also didn’t expect to miss it so much, now that I’m gone.
Growing up, we got our Christmas trees from Mr. Munro, the man who owned our house before us.
My grandmother lived with Alzheimer’s disease for years. And for years, my family and I would say things like:
One of my very best friends died three years ago. He happened to be my grandfather, who was 96 years old. He was ready. It was time.
There were yoga classes in California’s Silicon Valley and line dances in Washington. There were bocce ball matches in Rochester, N.Y., and water volleyball games in Mason City, Iowa. But best of all, across the country, there were younger people and older people coming together to participate.
Who’s contacting me at online dating sites? It would appear to be the much younger and the much older.
I’m always surprised when I hear friends or colleagues say that their families rarely get together for reunions. That’s because between me and my husband, there are at least a couple to choose from every year. So we usually pick one and set aside some vacation time for it.
As we pedaled along, it was as if we shared a bike path with the whole city.
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