Earlier this month I spent a week in north Georgia in the home of the Johnsons, who for fifteen years have provided loving care for my aging mother. I had planned the trip to coincide with a publishing conference, but hospice workers urged me to come sooner. “She might not make it to her 99th birthday,” they said. “She could die at any time.” That first day, I awoke at sunrise in their basement guest quarters. Soft morning light filtered... Read more