I’m 66 and the thing that broke me open this year was not a loss or a diagnosis or anything large — it was my grandson falling asleep on my chest on an ordinary afternoon, his whole small weight trusting me completely, and I sat there unable to move and understood that this is what all of it was for, not the career or the mortgage or the decades of doing the right thing, just this, just him, just now
Four months ago, I was sitting on my couch watching some game I can’t even remember now. My son had ...
