grow up there.”
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
He gave me a dry smile.
“Then I paid for it for thirty years.”
That was Frank.
As his health worsened, I drove him to the lake more often.
I opened the windows in spring.
Changed sheets.
Bought groceries.
Called the dock company.
Replaced a broken water heater.
Once, while he sat watching the sunset from the screened porch, he said, “You do too much.”
I smiled.
“Your children inherited excellent delegation skills.”
Frank laughed until he coughed.
What I didn’t realize was
