Sometimes I wonder about what kind of old lady I’ll be.
Mellow? Cantankerous? Feisty? Or will I learn to crochet and say things like, “Here, honey, have a cookie?”
But then I came across a notebook from 2014. In it, among various business notes and scraps of writing, I found something I must have written while chatting on the phone with my (then) 86-year-…
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