David Shribman: On the subject of loss, and the lost art of letter writing
He was getting older, he worried about losing his balance fishing on the end rocks, and his hearing was failing him. So was his short-term memory. He could recall, surprisingly vividly, how the bottom of his mother’s feet looked, but he forgot the names of some of his houseguests. He was going to bed earlier, and waking up earlier, too. Three times people told him his zipper was undone.
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