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Before I went to bed, Daniel called.
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Mom, are you okay?
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I am fine, my dear.
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Sure?
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I looked at the calendar on which I had written down my next medical check-up.
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Yes. And if I’m not, this time I’ll tell you.
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I heard him laughing.
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At the age of eighty, I had not brought a child into the world, as they all feared in the beginning. But I was going through an attempt that made me understand how much it matters not to hide my suffering from the people who love me.
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And the following Sunday, when the four great-grandchildren went out loudly and rushed to hug me, I knew that the family I had was more than I could ever wish for.
