I started researching home care.
She hated the idea.
Then one Sunday, she sat me down at her kitchen table and said, “I found a place.”
I blinked.
“A place for what?”
“Assisted living.”
I stared at her.
She gave me that calm smile she used whenever she was trying to keep me from panicking.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Small. Good staff. There’s a garden. Activities. I already toured it.”
“You toured assisted living without telling me?”