There is a difference.
If I asked about college, he answered.
If an old song played on the radio, he might tell me about some terrible road trip he and his brothers had taken.
He told me about girlfriends too.
A girl named Lisa he dated briefly in college.
Someone named Heather who dumped him because he forgot her birthday.
Normal stories.
Ordinary history.
But he never lingered on the past.
I thought that was simply Daniel.
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He lived in the present.
And after more than two decades together, I thought I knew the shape of his life.
I knew the scar on his left knee came from crashing his bicycle at fourteen.
I knew he hated mayonnaise because his mother once packed it in his school lunch during a heat wave.
I knew he had failed his first driving test.
