My Family Told Me Not to Show Up to the Baby Shower—So I Sent a Helicopter Instead

would ask at Christmas.

“Still in that little apartment?” my mother would add.

“Still single,” Aunt Margaret would chime in, as if being unmarried at thirty-two was a terminal diagnosis.

I’d smile and nod and change the subject because explaining the truth was more trouble than it was worth.

The truth was this: At twenty-two, fresh out of college, I’d continue reading …