My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.
When I woke, Helen was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table.
She slid a mug toward me.
“I made coffee,” she said.
“If you hate it, make your own.”
I laughed so hard I spilled some onto the saucer.
It was a simple joke, but I had forgotten what it felt like to be in a house where nobody expected me to anticipate their needs.
We ate toast, discussed a film we’d both seen, and made plans to visit a small gallery.
At three in the afternoon, I took a nap simply because I wanted to.
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