There was a time when she was in her late fifties and a woman from church, who was approaching ninety, told Lucille in a tremulous voice, “I still need love, too, you know.” And Lucille felt a kind of embarrassment mixed with disdain, she must admit she felt some disdain. Because she believed the woman should be through with all that. What she knows now is that no one is ever through with love. No one ever should be.
