At My Son’s Queens Kitchen, He Told Me To Pack A Bag If I Refused Assisted Living. “Then Leave My House,” He Said. I Smiled, Closed My Old Suitcase, And Walked To The Door—Just As A Black Limousine Pulled Up Outside.

for you to be alone all the time,” David had said.

“What if something happens?” Emily added sweetly. “You’re not getting any younger, and the kids adore you.”

Age.

They used the word the way people use weather in bad novels—as a thing always hovering, always about to close in.

“I’m fine,” I told them then. “I have church friends. I have routines. I like continue reading …