Martin died five years ago, seems like a lifetime. A thousand lifetimes. His face is the first thing I remember from my dreams every morning, and his picture the last thing I see before going to bed every night.

I was a housewife in those days. Oh, it wasn’t such a big deal back then, most of the women I knew were housewives, stay-at-home mothers, whatever you want to call it. It was almost assumed. Women who worked out of the home were “masculine,” or “free-thinkers.” These days, housewives are conisidered “weak,” but let me tell you, running a household is demanding, rewarding work, and I will never regret the way I chose to live my life.

It’s just that I never went to college, never dreamed of going to college, it wasn’t an opportunity afforded to most women my age, but when Martin died I decided it was time to stop living for him and start living for myself. Better late than never.

My children have children and their children have children, and all of them will go to college. It’s my turn.