“The birthday wishes have come in, mostly texts, but two cards arrived. The idea of me with an address is signal enough of age.
"Happy jubilee, my queen," Eli texts. "A half century of excellence."
I'm crying, not because I'm sad. Or not just sad. Not because I'm old. Not because it's a privilege to be alive when many others are gone. I'm crying because I'm remembered. And that's all there is.”