Yesterday, a friend reminded me about a conversation we had a few weeks earlier that I had forgotten. “I’m beginning to worry about you,” she said.
Then I began to worry about me. Was this an indication of something serious?
I began checking for other signs of forgetfulness. Nothing stuck out. I handle a million details with my business, and remember most of them. So how to…
I thought that using a cane would make me feel dimished.
Instead, it has made my life larger.
The following is a guest post from Andrea Frayser of The Intentional Caregiver:
I have to make a confession. This has been the hardest post for me to write. I have sat down, time and again to put the words together and they just wouldn’t come. It has taken me weeks of prayer, of introspection and a…
It is unmistakably comforting to curl up in a thick chair with a tattered copy of a book you love, listening to the rain while you let yourself get carried away by the words on the page. I know – I used to hoard books. Don’t let the title “minimalist” scare you off – I have a love of books…
I am neither happy nor sad on Father’s Day. There are no warm memories to wrap myself in, or feelings of loss. Truth be told, I remember hardly anything about my father. He died when I was seven.
I grew up in the fifties, when almost no one was divorced. As a child, I didn’t know anyone who did not have two parents — just my brothers and me.
I remember having daydreams as a kid, that
When we were getting ready to move, I asked my husband if we should have a yard sale. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Our marriage isn’t strong enough for a yard sale.” We looked at each other, laughed, and put everything in the donate pile.
It’s spring, and every weekend yard sale signs appear on corners, owners hoping for windfalls from parting with household bric-a-brac. Since everyone has stuff…
When I started Moving Solutions 18 years ago, I knew I was in the business
of aging, not the business of moving, so it is not surprising that my writing is about aging as well. When you delve into the details of people’s lives, as Senior Move Managers do, you observe the impact of caregiving and getting older on individuals and on relationships. This makes me think about my own getting older and…
In fourth grade they gave me a cello because I was the tallest girl in my class. In fifth grade they look it back because I was hopelessly tone deaf. Which is ironic, because over the years, my tone has gotten me into a lot of trouble.
For years, my husband accused me of having an angry tone to my voice. This was often in seemingly innocent sentences such as “I’ll be right down.” I would argue…