Miss Stacey May I Have Another

In Where I Was From, Didion describes flying across the country—already an old woman—to attend to the death of her mother, age 90. “Who will look out for me now?” she asks the reader. “Who will remember me as I was?”

I don’t know the answer to the first question, although some very famous names come to mind. But I know for certain the answer to the second: All of us. Always.