And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer

by Fredrik Backman

“The only time you’ve failed is if you don’t try once more.”

“Our teacher made us write a story about what we want to be when we’re big,” Noah tells him. “What did you write?” “I wrote that I wanted to concentrate on being little first.” “That’s a very good answer.” “Isn’t it? I would rather be old than a grown-up. All grown-ups are angry, it’s just children and old people who laugh.”

“When your feet touch the ground, I’ll be in space, my dear Noahnoah.” The boy concentrates on breathing in time with Grandpa. That’s another of their games. “Are we here to learn how to say good-bye, Grandpa?” he eventually asks. The old man scratches his chin, thinks for a long time. “Yes, Noahnoah. I’m afraid we are.” “I think good-byes are hard,” the boy admits.

“The amount I love you, Noah,” she would tell him with her lips to his ear after she read fairy tales about elves and he was just about to fall asleep, “the sky will never be that big.” She wasn’t perfect, but she was his. The boy sang to her the night before she died. Her body stopped working before her brain did. For Grandpa it’s the opposite.

Almost all grown adults walk around full of regret over a good-bye they wish they’d been able to go back and say better. Our good-bye doesn’t have to be like that, you’ll be able to keep redoing it until it’s perfect. And once it’s perfect, that’s when your feet will touch the ground and I’ll be in space, and there won’t be anything to be afraid of.”

“Why are you holding my hand so tight, Grandpa?” the boy whispers again. “Because all of this is disappearing, Noahnoah. And I want to keep hold of you longest of all.” The boy nods. Holds his grandpa’s hand tighter in return.

“You never became ordinary to me, my love. You were electric shocks and fire.” Her teeth tickle his earlobe when she replies: “No one could ask for more.”

“You were never easy, darling difficult sulky you, never diplomatic. You might even have been easy to dislike at times. But no one, absolutely no one, would dare tell me you were hard to love.”

“And we have to write essays all the time! The teacher wanted us to write what we thought the meaning of life was once.” “What did you write?” “Company.” Grandpa closes his eyes. “That’s the best answer I’ve heard.”

“We lived an extraordinarily ordinary life.” “An ordinarily extraordinary life.”

“Never in my life have I asked myself how I fell in love with her, Noahnoah. Only the other way around.”

“But the universe gave you both Noah. He’s the bridge between you. That’s why we get the chance to spoil our grandchildren, because by doing that we’re apologizing to our children.”

It’s never too late to ask your son about something he loves.”