The Two Lives of Lydia Bird

by Josie Silver

It’s probably for the best if the last time you do something momentous passes you by unheralded:

“When you’re young you think you’ve got all the time in the world,” she says. “And then suddenly you turn around and you’re old and one of you isn’t there anymore and you wonder how the years went so fast.” She nods toward Freddie and then shrugs. “Make hay while the sun shines. That’s all I’m saying.”

It’s one of those press-pause moments, the kind of unexpected perfect you get only a handful of, and because no one knows to appreciate those moments more than me, I do. I press pause in my head and commit it all to memory, every last detail.

That’s the deal we make when we love someone, isn’t it? Somewhere along the path one person is always going to have to find a way to carry on without the other.