The Final Appraisal at the Lake House Before the Family Reckoning

married again at eighty-five, I understood something I wish I had known sooner.

Love is not a room with one chair.

It is a house that can be repaired.

Expanded.

Made warm again.

Ruth slipped her hand into mine.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“I’m listening.”

“To what?”

I smiled.

“The house.”

She leaned against my shoulder.

“What is it saying?”

I looked around at the continue reading …