I smiled.
I’m 81 now.
I still live in my own home, and I decide for myself whom to invite, where to go, and how to spend the years I have left.
Sometimes I remember that summer when everyone thought I had lost my mind because I fell in love with a 20-year-old man.
But that summer, I learned the most important lesson of my life.
Love doesn’t mean trusting blindly. And family doesn’t mean surrendering control of your life to someone else.
And if you ask whether I regret meeting Jake, my answer is no.
He didn’t become the man I would spend the rest of my life with.
But because he entered my life, I realized that I still have the right to be the main character in my own story.
Even at eighty.