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.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“My grandmother used to say things like that.”
“Was she a good woman?”
“She was wonderful. She used to braid my hair when I was little.”
“Does she still do it?”
Brittany looked down.
“No. She died a few years ago.”
I felt a familiar ache in my chest.
