I am writing this post now at seventy-six years old.
Emily is in the kitchen.
She just shouted that if I refer to her as my “former housekeeper” one more time, she is personally going to shut down my Facebook account.
I told her I don’t even know the password.
She laughed.
And that laughter now fills the house that once felt so painfully empty.
I have lived a long life, and only near the end of it did I understand one simple truth.
Love does not always arrive in the form other people think is appropriate.
Sometimes it comes in the form of the person everyone else overlooked.
And sometimes the woman who once walked into your study to save your life walks into that same room years later and asks,