Nobody warns you that the regrets that hit hardest in your 60s and 70s aren’t the big risks you didn’t take or the careers you didn’t try, they’re the small ordinary moments you rushed through, the Tuesday dinners, the slow afternoons, the conversations you cut short because you thought there’d be more
I noticed it on a Wednesday morning. I was making coffee, half-listening to my wife Donna tell me something about her sister, and I realized I’d been doing that exact thing, that half-listening thing, for about forty years. Not in any dramatic way. Not as a bad husband. Just as a…