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I have been enshrouded for months by the weak winter sun.

We’re tired. In bed, we hold hands. We watch TV. But do you want more?

Someone seems to have made an excellent age-specific insight.

I miss sex. I really liked it, and I was good at it, if I do say so myself.

We need to stop talking about it, we need to put some pants on.

When I come to be old, I resolve not to tell the same story over and over.

I make a point of smelling the lilac every day that first week in May.

Best-selling author Melanie Gideon reads from her novel Wife 22.

The light is like a benediction. My husband reaches for my hand.

Dad is catnip to the lady residents. He’s tall and lean, plus he’s got all his hair.

I stop and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue, green, purple.

won’t you celebrate with me that every day has tried to kill me

“Ki o tsukete!” she called, and he knew the words. Be careful.