I folded my hands in my lap.
“Do you know what I would give to sit at a table with my husband again, even for five minutes? To hear him complain about my cooking? To watch him pretend he wasn’t falling asleep during his favorite television program?”
My voice softened.
“He used to tell me that I spent too much time worrying about how I looked. He said that one day I would wish I had spent more time laughing with him instead.”
Brittany was listening now.
“When he died, I discovered how little those things mattered. The gray hairs. The wrinkles. The dresses I thought I needed to buy. None of it could bring him back. None of it mattered as much as the time we had together.”
I paused.
“Growing older is not a punishment, Brittany. It is something many people never get the chance to do.”
