My daughter and son were two or three and five or six when their grandmother arrived, again precise details now lost. My diminutive mother-in-law flew from the East for a visit. She never went back home. It was her furniture being offloaded from the Mayflower truck as I watched.
When my husband Jack and I got together more than twenty years ago, it was in a time when virtually every other marriage was ending in divorce, stats so terrible they'd engendered their own grim humor: You could shop for your next husband.