The following morning, he suggested that we take a picture together.
“But not an ordinary picture. I want you to give me a piggyback ride.”
I laughed so loudly that
the vacationers nearby turned around.
“Are you crazy? I’m sixty-two years old!”
“And I’m so light the wind could carry me away. Come on, let’s prove that age is just a number.”
Eventually, I agreed.
He climbed onto my back, we both burst into laughter, and a tourist took our picture.
In that photograph, I looked genuinely happy for the first time in years.
I sent it to Sarah with the message:
“Look, sweetheart, your mother still knows how to have fun!”
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
It was
Sarah.
“MOM! WHO IS THAT MAN?”
“Just a new friend, darling.”
“What’s his name?”
“Daniel.”
I heard my daughter shout something to her brother.
Then her voice began trembling.
