Chapter 4: Learning to Live Alone
The next five years taught me things I never expected to learn in my seventies.
I learned how to stretch grocery money until it nearly begged for mercy.
I learned how to fix a running toilet by watching videos on my phone with the volume turned all the way up.
I learned how to smile politely when church friends tilted their heads and asked if I was “adjusting.”
Adjusting.
Such a gentle word for rebuilding a life from broken pieces.
My children called constantly.
Adele always listened too carefully.
“Mama, you sound tired.”
“I’m seventy-four,” I would tell her. “Tired comes included.”
Jeremiah tried helping in less obvious ways.
“Need me this weekend?”
“For what?”
“Nothing. Just thought I’d check the gutters.”
“My gutters are fine.”
“The last time you said that, a squirrel was living in one.”
They knew me too well.
Part of me loved that.
Part of me hid from it.
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