Math was never my favorite subject, but I especially disliked long division. Sometimes when you divided a number, there was an amount left over, called the “remainder.” It bothered me, those leftovers, those left-behinds. They didn’t fit anywhere, belong anywhere.
I didn’t mention this to my math teacher, of course, because I knew he’d say math was just numbers and numbers didn’t worry about belonging. Probably he was right, but it made me uncomfortable, these loose ends waiting to be tied up.
Years later, I understood why. I understood that life was full of long division problems that had nothing to do with numbers but with people. Divisions like distance and disagreements and divorce and death—divisions that created all kinds of loose ends, all kinds of discomfort.
Books and movies seemed to promise happy endings, but reality was messier. My best friend Sue moved away in tenth grade and we never saw each other again in spite of our promises. My grandfather died when I was only fifteen and I still needed his wisdom.
Loose ends are everywhere but so is our yearning to tie them up. So we keep trying—with love, listening, forgiveness, whatever it takes, right to the end—and beyond.
