My parents had slept on the same mattress at their country house for thirty-one years. It was sagging, stained, and far beyond replacement, yet whenever I suggested buying a new one, they refused. I assumed they were simply being stubborn and frugal.
So I finally ordered a new mattress and arranged for movers to remove the old one while my parents and I spent the day at the beach. Around lunchtime, the mover called. “Sir, we’ve stopped. It’s what we found underneath the mattress.” His voice changed. “Come alone first.
