Funny phrase “independent living.” We’ve each lived independently to some extent, more or less, since we left our parental homes. I was sixteen. How about you?
Four and a half days ago my wife and I moved into a senior community, minimum age 55, that when preceded by the phrase independent living, is followed by the execrable word facility.
It’s a lovely place, much like a resort. Food and drink are included (to a limit), plus electricity, water, trash removal, cardboard recycling, washer and dryer, Internet and DirecTV. No more home owner’s insurance or property taxes (all included in the monthly rent, of course.)
We were gobsmacked by the eight-foot island and deep stainless steel sink. More drawers than we had in our Sedona home of 22 years (though we had a walk-in pantry there, so find the cupboard space here a bit constrained, e.g. I found room for only two dishtowels and for the time being, our two potholders live in the oven).
I walk out to the great room several times a day to see what’s going on and whether there are interesting people to talk to (we talk to all of them, though, and look for what is interesting about each). Sometimes there is room to join a game. Twice today I joined in on Mexican train with different sets of players.
I swam in the indoor pool, worked out in the gym (twice, though not for very long) and Ellen and I walked the Flagstaff Urban Trail System 1.75 miles. I’ve completed more than 11,000 steps today, because when a friend called while I was in the great room, I excused myself to take the call and circled the first floor four or five times while continuing that lovely conversation.
My goals are to keep up my exercise, maintain a healthful diet and participate with others as much as possible to build community. I think over dinner we cheered up a resident with long Covid who was having a terribly horribly very bad day. We listened and complimented her sense of humor.
Nice avatar.
I need to update mine.
Lynne,
I so enjoyed reading this. I was never independent until the age of 42. I left my parents home at 18 years old, married at 19, started a family and farming by the time I was 22. I have always loved my solitude and learning. So my Independence Day came in November of 1997. My children were mostly grown, I bought my own home and became truly independent. I’m currently in a life long relationship of 24 years to a man that loves, respects and encourages my “independence”. Wishing you and Ellen all the best on this exciting adventure.
Thanks, Sylvia. I did not know those details about your life. I appreciate your sharing.
A nicely thought through examination. I love your spirited perspective. And, you’re right about independent living in varying degrees being a universal state. I went to the university at 16, was not monetarily independent, but I remember the satisfied feeling making decisions for myself, not always good ones, but nevertheless, they were independent. My best wishes to both of you on this fabulous new adventure, the greatest youth drug possible.
Adventure = youth drug. Inspiring analogy. Thanks.
Nice avatar.
I need to update mine.
Sounds like a wonderful new beginning. I’d worry about forgetting those potholders and turning on the oven, however, you don’t forget much.
Wishing you both happy times in your new home!