The temperature fell again last night. If old man winter keeps this up, he’s going to break a hip. That will be the end of that. And speaking of old men, I’ve decided to stop referring to myself as an old man. I’m a man, I’m old, but that’s the end of the resemblance in my book. My dad lived to be 86 and I only thought of him as an old man when he banged up his car running into things. Most of the time he was light and lively and fun to be with and he got married at 82 to a brilliant woman.

Anyway, I spent most of yesterday by myself and that was kind of fun. I took a long walk through my hometown. There’s lots to see when you’re on foot. You’d be amazed at how many dogs there are and how many people fly American flags. I’ve traveled around the world, and I hardly recall seeing anyone flying the flag of their country in their front yard. But back to being by myself. My house is comfortable, and I didn’t have the TV on; I was just sitting and wandering around. It was nice. It was so quiet I could hear the distinct sounds of our two wall clocks ticking. You’d think that might drive you crazy, but it was comforting.

I’m going to babysit my grand-kids this weekend. I’m a little trepidatious, but I raised three of my own and I babysat them all the time, even when they were tiny little babies. At least these two are old enough to talk and they seem excited to see me coming. So, I’m coming. I’ve got plans, too. Things to do, maybe people to see. Or we might just sit around and watch TV. You never know. I suspect they’ll be happy just being with me, and that’s a treasure, people who want to be with you just ‘cause you’re you.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale