At sixty-eight, I stood on my own driveway and watched strangers carry forty-three years of my life into a moving truck. A polite mover asked if I was there to pick something up. “No,” I said…
At sixty-eight, I stood on the driveway and watched strangers carry my life out of the house I’d owned for forty-three years. One of the movers smiled politely. “Excuse me, are you here to pick something up before we’re done? ” “No,” I said quietly. “I think you’re taking everything. ” Before he could answer, … Read more