In a career span­ning more than fifty years, Judith Viorst has cap­ti­vat­ed read­ers with her best­selling children’s books and col­lec­tions of poet­ry reflect­ing on each decade of life. Now in her nineties, Viorst writes about life’s ​“Final Fifth,” those who are eighty to one hun­dred years old. She con­fess­es, ​“I nev­er ever send a text while dri­ving, and not just because I don’t know how to text.” She dis­cuss­es the after­life (She doesn’t believe in it, but if it exists, she hopes her sis­ter-in-law isn’t there). She com­plains to her dead hus­band (“I need you fix­ing our damn cir­cuit break­ers. I need you! Could you please stop being dead?”). And she explores the late-life mean­ings of wis­dom and hap­pi­ness and sec­ond chances and home. With a wit that defies age, Viorst nav­i­gates the ter­rain of loss. It’s a poignant dance between grief and lev­i­ty that will res­onate with those in their Final Fifth as well as any­one who has par­ents, rel­a­tives, or friends in their eight­ies and beyond. This is Judith Viorst at her best.