Letters to Lucy #3: Mind-bending joy, plus sober for 57 days and counting

Welcome to [B]old Age where I write about the bittersweetness of old age, from the blessings to the bullshit. This is another in my series of Letters to Lucy. Lucy was a dear childhood friend who died this past winter, quite unexpectedly, at 72. In these more raw, less polished essays, I’m sharing evolving thoughts with her about life in my 70s, about family, about what’s important. 🙏

I can finally tell you why we left Maine during the glorious summer months: our younger daughter had a baby. We drove down to Connecticut to spend four weeks helping her with her newborn son, our newest, and rather unexpected, grandchild. What joy! Everything about a newborn feels so clear and uncomplicated, the stark opposite of the depression I sometimes struggle with (and I know you did too).

Nothing has ever surpassed the awe and intense delight I felt after each of my three children was born: their silky skin, milky smell, jerky, waving arms, legs still folded as if in utero. Still, this experience was mind-bending.

My personal essays, like this one, are for paid subscribers. I keep my annual rate as low as possible ($32.50), but if it’s still a barrier, email me at debbieweil @ substack dot com—and I will comp you.

Read on for more about mind-bending joy and my nearly sober summer.