Daniel

My 90-year-old grandmother held up a faded photo yesterday. She squinted at it, smiled, and said That's me at seven. I couldn't see the little girl. The photo was too damaged. But when she told the story how she snuck out to play, got her dress dirty, lied to her mother I saw her perfectly. Because I did the same things as a kid. We forget that old people were once exactly like us. Same fears,...