And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer

by Fredrik Backman

Isn’t that the best of all life’s ages, an old man thinks as he looks at his grandchild. When a boy is just big enough to know how the world works but still young enough to refuse to accept it.

Grandpa always calls him “Noahnoah” because he likes his grandson’s name twice as much as everyone else’s.

Falling in love with her meant having no room in his own body.

“You had me an entire lifetime. All of mine.” “That wasn’t enough.”

just like when children leap into the sea from a jetty, one has to be brave enough to go first before the others will follow.

The wind fights in the treetops; the leaves move in a hundred dialects of green;

The dad likes numbers and the boy likes letters; they’re different languages.

“It rained for a long time here when your Grandma died. I never quite got it back in order after that.”

*it "rained" aka it "cried"

“What’s on those pieces of paper?” the boy asks. “Those are all my ideas,” Grandpa replies. “They’re blowing away.” “They’ve been doing that for a long time.”

“Those who hasten to live are in a hurry to miss,”

“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.”

“What did your teacher say?” “She said I hadn’t understood the task.” “And what did you say?” “I said she hadn’t understood my answer.”

“The amount I love you,

“the sky will never be that big.”

“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.”

“My memories are running away from me, my love, like when you try to separate oil and water. I’m constantly reading a book with a missing page, and it’s always the most important one.”

“I didn’t care why you said yes. Just that you stayed.”

he spent an entire working life calculating probabilities and she was the most improbable person he ever met.

equations are magic, and that all formulas are spells,”

“You’ll have to hope it never happens, because only people who are shorter than the anchor get to play in my office whenever they want.” And when Noah’s head began to approach the top of the anchor, Grandpa placed stones beneath it so he would never lose the privilege of being disturbed.

“I know that the way home is getting longer and longer every morning. But I loved you because your brain, your world, was always bigger than everyone else’s. There’s still a lot of it left.”

Does it hurt on the inside?” “It hurts less and less. That’s one good thing about forgetting things. You forget the things that hurt too.”

“What does it feel like?” “Like constantly searching for something in your pockets. First you lose the small things, then it’s the big ones. It starts with keys and ends with people.”

“When you’ve forgotten a person, do you forget you’ve forgotten?” “No, sometimes I remember that I’ve forgotten. That’s the worst kind of forgetting.

That’s the road that’s getting longer and longer every morning, the way home from space.

For some reason places and directions seem to be the first thing to disappear. First you forget where you’re going, then where you’ve been, and eventually where you are . . .

“Death isn’t fair.” “No, death is a slow drum. It counts every beat. We can’t haggle with it for more time.”

“How did you fall in love with her?”

“She got lost in my heart, I think. Couldn’t find her way out.

“I’ll tell you about her when you forget, Grandpa. First thing every morning, first of all I’ll tell you about her.” Grandpa squeezes his arm. “Tell me that we danced, Noahnoah. Tell me that that’s what it’s like to fall in love, like you don’t have room for yourself in your own feet.” “I promise.”

promise me something, one very last thing: once your good-bye is perfect, you have to leave me and not look back. Live your life. It’s an awful thing to miss someone who’s still here.”

It’s an awfully big universe to be alone in.’ ”

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.”

“My wonderful smart little boy. The amount I love you, Noah, the sky will never be that big.”

It’s a big universe to be angry at but a long life to have company in.