At 30,000 Feet, I Watched My Wife Crawl Across the Floor With Both Legs in Casts While My Mother Hid Her Crutches—Then I Noticed What Was Recording Behind Them

I found that reassuring.

Life had entered.

My father would probably have hated green too.

He would survive the insult by remaining dead.

Selling the house was not revenge.

Keeping it would not have been loyalty.

It was property.

Useful distinction.