If David was short on rent, he called.
If Melissa needed help with a birthday party, she called.
If Eric needed a ride from the airport, I was usually the first person he contacted.
But sometimes weeks passed without anyone calling simply to ask how I was doing.
I told myself that was normal.
Everyone was busy.
Families depended on one another.
Then one Tuesday morning, I stood in my kitchen looking at my calendar.
Almost every square was filled.
My grandson’s soccer tournament.
Melissa’s dentist appointment because I was watching her daughter.
A reminder to transfer money to David.
Errands.
Appointments.
Other people’s plans.
Nothing on that calendar belonged to me.
I was sixty-nine years old.
And suddenly I realized I had spent most of my life waiting for “someday.”
Someday Robert and I would visit Italy.
Someday we would see Japan.
Someday we would travel through Australia.
