I keep a small notebook in my purse. Not for phone numbers or appointments. Those live in my phone now, like everyone else’s. This notebook is for prices. I started it about two years ago, almost without deciding to. I’d come home from the grocery store and I’d find myself recounting what things cost, not…
My daughter rearranged my kitchen cabinets when she came to visit last October. She didn’t ask. She arrived on a Friday evening, and by Saturday morning, while I was out walking, she had moved my everyday dishes down to a lower shelf because, she said, she didn’t want me reaching up too high. She meant…
The Quiet House: On Loneliness, Stillness, and Learning to Be With Yourself Again The first Monday after I retired, I woke up at my usual time and lay in bed listening to the neighborhood come alive. The Hendersons’ sprinklers going off at six fifteen. The school bus making its stop two blocks down, the hydraulic…
My neighbor Patricia traded in her luxury sedan last spring for a small practical hatchback that she paid for outright. No payments. No financing. Just a check and a title and a deep, visible exhale that I watched from my porch as she drove it home for the first time. She told me later it…
Last Thursday, I stood in the cereal aisle at the grocery store for longer than I care to admit. Not because I couldn’t decide what I wanted. I knew what I wanted. I’ve been buying the same oatmeal for thirty years. I stood there because the price had gone up again, nearly a dollar more…
They gave me a sheet cake. Yellow with white frosting, the kind that comes in a flat cardboard box from the grocery store. My name was written on top in blue gel, Congratulations, Marky!, and everyone sang and hugged me and said things like, “You’ve earned it,” and “Now the fun begins.” I smiled. I…