Flytime
“I think you need to do something about the boat,” said Manny on the phone. “I was down at the marina, and the canvas cover is torn and shredded. The boat’s being exposed to the elements.” I felt a pit in my stomach. I didn’t want to hear this. Six years earlier, at the age of forty-seven, my husband Perry had suffered a heart attack, which deprived his brain of oxygen. After a two-week coma, he gradually awakened, slowly regaining part of his cognition and former self. Many parts didn’t come back: He couldn’t practice law anymore; he couldn’t cook or drive. My once lively...
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