My 89-year-old mother has always been impressive. She earned her bachelor’s degree when my sister and I were in high school. She divorced my father in the late 1970s and had a successful career in the 1980s and 1990s, in the male-dominated world of computer sales. She now lives with her 75-year-old boyfriend, a man she met two years ago at a two-week dance camp. She’s traveled just about everywhere in the world. She swims laps, walks miles, and looks much younger than she is.
The one regret she has shared with me is that she doesn’t have grandchildren.