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.

“Here I can say no, and everyone still treats me with respect.”

One afternoon Denise asked whether the center could accept a small donation from me toward computers and accessible furniture.

I consulted my adviser before giving an amount that fit my charitable budget.

I asked them not to put my name on a wall.

“I don’t need a plaque,” I said.

“I need people to be able to read the screens.”

I went home that night more tired than I’d been in months, but the tiredness felt different.