This morning I tried to buy opera tickets as a surprise for Evan (he is a major fan), and all accessible seats were sold out. I know it’s not the end of the world, or even cause for tears. Operas are clearly a luxury. Still, incidents like this chip away at my loved ones’ assurances that I am not bringing them down. I remember the countless, tiny limitations hovering around me like a cloud of mosquitoes. I remember I can’t be the wife I was: the one who goes on romantic sunset canoe trips, holds hands with her husband while walking beside him, hikes with him in the afternoon, and goes stargazing in the park with him at night.