Last summer, early in the season, I was running one morning with my friend Thao. She told me that her son, Robbie, who was 9, had asked her a question the night before as they were getting ready for bed.
“Mom,” he asked, “How many nights do we have left together?”
“Oh Robbie,” Thao replied. “We have a lot. Maybe ten thousand.”
She wanted to reassure him. It wasn’t a serious conversation, Robbie had brought it up lightly, and quickly moved on. The thing was, Thao was pretty accurate. Another thirty to forty years together, at least. Maybe more. But yeah, somewhere around ten thousand… fifteen thousand nights. If we’re lucky, twenty. Twenty thousand nights.
That was June, the beginning of the summer. We lost Dragon in August. Little did I know then, that had Dragon asked me that question, the answer would have been, “60 nights. That’s all we’ve got left, my love, 60 nights.”
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