At a certain point in the journey one wonders what the denouement will look like, feel like . . . and whether that will make any difference at all in the end.  How will this particular life, my life, resolve?  How will all the threads and chapters and diversions play out or come together? Or will they?  Is it possible to choose one’s own denouement after all?  I start with this question of choice. Of course, there is always choice.  This fundamental and critical reality of human existence -of human life- is my daily reminder to Liam, just arrived at age 6. Never a stronger willed child challenged his grandmother at nearly every turn. It’s almost like a daily fencing match where I only make points when I manage to catch him off guard and make him laugh. As when he screws up his face in anger over some frivolity of the moment and I say with a smile,  “Hope you don’t freeze that way!” His angry face melts into a smile and a twinkle flashes from his eyes as his meet mine and I smile, “Gotcha!”