Page 24 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“I haven’t decided.”

“Well, you must have some idea,” I replied. “Otherwise, how do you know what’s important?”

“I know I want to write something about women’s suffrage in Montana.”

“For heaven’s sake, why? Isn’t that a topic women usually pick up?”

“Yes. But I’ve got a very vocal daughter. Tess has been a challenge every step of the way, but she makes me look at things with a very clear eye. Just because a human being may come in ‘a different format’—her words—doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have equal rights and opportunities. Any kind of discrimination never made sense to her.”

“Sounds like an interesting child.”

“Right from the get-go. After my son was born, Patti had her first bout of cancer. They told us she’d never have another child. We’d accepted that, especially once Joe turned ten. We’d gone to Hawaii for our anniversary—a very delayed honeymoon trip. By the time we came back, she was nauseous all the time. We thought she’d gotten food poisoning, but instead she’d gotten pregnant.”

“That’s wild,” I said, while at the same time my gut was twisting. No matter how much I’d longed for it, I’d never had a child.

Mother’s Days were hell.

“How old is she now?” I asked with a polite smile.

“Twenty-nine. Like I said earlier, she’s finishing up another degree at MIT.”

“She must be very smart. Takes after her dad.”

“Could be. But she’s also on the Asperger’s scale, so developing relationships can be difficult. She wants to be loved so much, but doesn’t know how to go about it. She’s working with someone in Boston, but it’s going to take time.”

“It’s tough to watch our children in pain.” I knew that much, even though I’d never experienced it.

He nodded.

“But enough of that. She’ll work it out.”

“Suffrage is a big topic,” I said, grateful to turn the conversation away from children. “How are you going to write about it?”

He laughed. “I can’t even decide whether it should be fiction or non-fiction. Non-fiction gives me research creds—and you know how much I like research.”

“You always had the most footnotes of any of us. Mr. Droble was always commenting about it.”

“Yeah. I was in competition with myself. I always had to have ten more than the last paper.”

“No wonder your daughter is at MIT.”

“Yeah. Probably. Apples and trees and all that.”

His grin caught me and transported me back to a time before … before growing up and learning how little control we actually had on the world around us. A time of possibilities.

Hello, hope. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.

“On the other hand,” he said. “Fiction makes history so much more accessible. A story makes anything go down better, especially when you’re teaching.”

“Did you like being a teacher?”

“Loved it. Being retired is the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. I spent my whole life preparing for work, then working at getting better at teaching, taking more responsibility at school. Then all of a sudden it was over. I have to admit, I rattled around a bit before I got my act together. The kids were out of the house, Patti was gone, and I didn’t seem to have a purpose anymore.”

“What did you do?”

“Got some therapy and went back to church,” he said.

“I did the therapy part,” I said. “About a year during and after my divorce. It helped.”

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