“You were an ER physician?” she had said the first time we met, her voice breathless. “That’s incredible, Carol. You’re a hero. I really admire you.”

Two months ago, they gave me the greatest gift of my twilight years: a grandson named Ethan. He was a bundle of soft sighs and milky scents, a tiny anchor in the drifting tide of my retirement. Jennifer seemed to be a wonderful mother, constantly bringing Ethan over, seeking my medical advice for every rash and hiccup. I loved her for it. I loved feeling useful again.