Enid did not want to be safe.

She wanted to be home.

And the great lie hidden inside that gentle word is the assumption that those are the same thing, when for a great many people, at the end, they are opposites, and choosing the body’s safety over the soul’s home is not the kindness it dresses itself up as.

I did not have the words for all that in January.

Enid told me the rest in a flat voice, folding and refolding a napkin.