H is for Hannah.

  annah, my sister, the youngest of us originally, is on the phone.

 Not long into the conversation, she asks if I had ever been ambitious
  (past perfect tense). Her husband, Dwight, is retiring, and they are going
  to travel, first to Alaska, then to Costa Rica, then New Zealand, and
  maybe Scotland after that.
     “I don’t think I ever was,” I say. “I have no imagination when it comes
  to the future,” I add after a pause.

Hannah says that Dwight thinks I am the kind of person that goes into a field to gather stones, trips over one, then rolls over and lies down with his hands behind his head, staring into the clouds.
     “He said that?”
     “Maybe not in those exact words. But, yes.”
     I want to say that I’d always liked Dwight, but I never thought he understood other people very well. He understood what they were for, but he didn’t understand them.
     But I don’t say it.