Most people would have.”
“My grandmother wouldn’t have,” she said simply.
“No,” I said.
“Mine wouldn’t have either.”
A short pause.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” I said.
“But I’ve started writing something.
I’m not sure what it is yet.
Maybe a memoir.
Maybe just a long essay.
Something about going back to school at sixty-five, and what it costs, and what it gives back.”
“Will you let me read it?” she said.
“When it’s done?”
“You’ll be the first,” I said.
I called Daniel next.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“Well?” he said.
I told him.
He was quiet through most of it.
When I finished, he said, “Good.”
Just that.
Good.
The way he used to say it when he was a teenager and something had been resolved and he didn’t want to make a big thing of it.
