This is one of the most difficult parts of aging—missing the movement, the noise, and the visitors. It came to me sadly today when I walked down to the gate and saw grass growing in my driveway. It was kept smooth for more than half a century by the frequent movement of family and visitors' cars coming up the hill to our house. As you know, I am 84: almost all of our family members and friends have passed over that rainbow bridge (if there is one). I am glad, of course, to be alive, but miss the noise—and fear the loneliness to come.