As the days passed, our conversations became longer. She told me about her childhood, her marriage, the mistakes she regretted, and the dreams she had postponed until it was too late.
One afternoon, I arrived to find her unusually quiet.
« Daniel, » she said, « can I ask you something ridiculous? »
« Those are usually the best questions. »
She smiled faintly.
« Would you marry me? »
I thought I had misheard her.
« I’m sorry? »
« I know how it sounds, » she said quickly. « I’m seventy years old, I’m receiving hospice care, and I’m asking a man half my age to marry me. You can say no. »
I sat down beside her bed.
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