I’m just finished.” He looked to me, then, for support, the old reflex, expecting his son to help him manage his wife.

I said nothing at all.

I had made the catastrophic mistake of deciding what my mother should do with her own life exactly once, and it had nearly cost her everything, and I would never make it again.

“Can’t you at least think about it?” he pleaded.

And my mother gave him a sad, gentle smile.

“I’ve been thinking for years, Rogelio,” she said.