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.

I gave myself a monthly budget.

I made no expensive promises to anyone.

The house entered the conversation only later.

I had assumed Colin and Jessica owned it.

Colin had been proud of the beautiful limestone place in a quiet Austin neighborhood, with a large oak shading the driveway and a downstairs bedroom for me.

But one afternoon I overheard an argument through the laundry room door.

“The owner wants the property sold,” Colin said.