One morning last summer I was sitting at the kitchen table while my daughter looked into the refrigerator.
"How was writers group?" she asked.
"Grapefruit's not in season, sweetie."
She turned so I could see her better. "Mom. Get those hearing aids."
Oops. Several months earlier I'd finally, at age 56, had a hearing test because, well, for some reason I'd been asking her, or her sisters, or their dad, or quite a few other people to repeat themselves when I hadn't known exactly what they'd said. But I was managing. I'd gotten really good at reading lips, which I also used while watching TV. Radio was no problem -- when I wore ear buds. I didn't mind sitting up front at writers conferences or workshops. And most of my work is in front of a computer screen anyway.