Elena Ferrante: when a friend died at 38, I thought that would be my allotted time, too

When I got to 38, things changed. I was pleased I had made it, and thought, ‘Everything after this is a bonus’

A woman I was very attached to died young, at 38. She had been married to a man she loved, had three small children and many talents that were beginning to bear fruit. I was younger than she was when she died; now, I’m much older. For a long time I considered her 38 years a sort of goal. If that had been her allotted span, surely that limit could also be mine. So I thought of my life as if it would not last longer than 38 years.

I know that may seem ridiculous but, in some corner of myself, it really was like that. And, all in all, I’m glad: in many ways I had a different sense of time from my contemporaries. I ran; they lingered. I felt old and burdened by responsibilities; they seemed young and irresponsible.

Related: Elena Ferrante: ‘I devote myself to plants. Is it because I am afraid of them?’

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