“Aussie, I’m counting on you to be around till I’m at least 80. When I’m 80 you’ll be 13. Think you could make it till then? I’m beginning to worry. You’re lying on the floor, dead to the world.”

“This heat is killing me.”

“You got stung by wasps yesterday.”

“Who knew that wasps have nests on the ground? I was curious, and they took it personally. That’s the trouble with the world, everyone takes things so personally.”

“And you’re slowing down. You’re going to be 8 next month. I think you should start taking glucosamines, you’re a little stiff.”

“I know why you’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Worrying about my health, my energy, my age. You’re traveling tomorrow. Whenever you travel, you worry about death.”

“Wow, Aussie, I never thought about it like that. Maybe you’re right. Just before Bernie died suddenly, I spent 4 days in Switzerland, came back, and he died 36 hours later.”

“And now, voila, you’re going back to Switzerland. My fee is half a pound of roast beef, I like it rare, and lots and lots of chicken.”

“Aussie, you’ve gained 4 pounds, time to go on a diet.”

“Trump forbid.”

“It’s not just because of Bernie, Auss. I feel how things are coming and going, people younger than me getting very sick. In Switzerland I’ll see folks I haven’t seen for a while, the grayer hairs, the lines and wrinkles. The stories, which are always about change. On the plane back I’ll wonder what I’ll find when I come back home. You’ll be staying with friends who love you and you love them, just like you love their dog, Florence, but life doesn’t stop because I go away. It’s just 16 days, but things will be different. Lori will be different, you’ll be different.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and Illegal will be different, too.”

“Different how, Auss?”

“He’ll learn some English.”

“I’ll come back and you’ll be 3 weeks shy of 8. The leaves will be a dark forest green, especially towards the end of this hot, dry summer, and some will show color at their edges. The branches will sag more, the air will be different, it always is in September. I might even whisper to myself: I missed the change. It’s happening without me.”

“Why go? Why leave me?”

“I have a teaching engagement, Aussie.”

“One day you’ll have no teaching engagements and you’ll really start living.”

“Back home, things will have changed. Maybe not dramatically, but I’ll see them. I’ll visit Kwan-yin and see how her cracks have widened, look at the flowers at her feet. It’s easy to fool yourself from day to day, thinking that you and everything stay the same. When I go away, even for a short while, I feel the coming and the going a lot more than usual.”

“Florence and I are going to have a blast.”

“Aussie, after Bernie died, I had no arms in which to nestle. He was home to me. Now change is home to me, but it doesn’t feel as solid, doesn’t feel as good. So, stick around for at least another 5 years, deal?”

“Give me your best offer.”