Thanksgiving in a Retirement Home

I am living in probably the safest place I have ever been.

My family is not worried about me.

While I sit here thinking about the Thanksgiving season, someone is cooking my dinner.

The wonderful colors of autumn are hanging on in the courtyard.

Even the weather is better than predicted.

The hardest decision I have to make today is which book to read, (though thinking about the war in the Middle East takes all of my energy, and I do have an opinion I would like to share with the president.)

Meanwhile, in just a few days one of my sons is coming for a visit. My daughter will produce a feast.

This afternoon we who live on the second floor will meet in our own sitting space to talk about things relevant to our living together. Our chairman will introduce our new residents. We will no doubt be reminded about what not to put in the recycling bin. The side table will be covered with our favorite snacks.

Bob is recovering from his surgery and asking if I am ready for a chess game. I am afraid I have forgotten how.

Tomorrow night there is a “Roarin’ Twenties” party. No way I am going to that. I am old but I don’t remember that far back. And I don’t have a thing to wear.

What I have is season tickets to the symphony and will be going five times in the next few months with a group of music-loving friends.

I hope there is some good news from Peggy. She bought tickets and then got sick.

That reminds me. I have an appointment with my gastroenterologist tomorrow, and I must tell him that this medicine really helps.

My Amazon report shows that they sold just one of my books yesterday, a print copy of Helping Yourself Grow Old. One is better than none, especially when the book has been around four years already. Last week I got a note from some lady who wanted to tell me she is reading it for the third time. I am astonished. And thankful.

This is a portion of my gratitude list. The more complete version is embarrassing, especially when I think about Gaza. And I do. It makes a cup of hot coffee in the morning seem like a rare luxury.

I need to remember that God is gracious and generous to all. Gaza is somebody else’s fault.

Posted in a safer environment, Assisted Care, family, gratitude, retirement home, Things I Said to Myself When I Was Almost 90.

12 Comments

  1. Frances,
    Thanks for your post and knowing that you will be with family. during this season of Thanksgiving. At our age that is a gift! Take care and may the Peace of God take hold in Gaza.
    Marian

  2. So good to read your blog this fine morning, Frances. Your life has always reflected gratitude. Thanks for reminding me that my morning cup of hot coffee, drunk from my Mama’s favorite mug (God rest her soul) is a privilege not to be taken for granted.

    I’m going to send this to my brother to share with my Dad, who is lonely at home by himself, but doesn’t want to go to what he imagines is a “nursing home.”

    God bless bless you and yours this holiday season.

  3. frances, i love reading your blogs and i love your book. recommended to to lots of folks. i have been trying to send you an email but frances0615@att.net keeps telling me it is undeliverable. i want to update you on my new email and keep failing. i remember thanksgiving in jordan with fond memories.

  4. Hello Frances lying here on my floor reading my Bible I over hear your lovely voice on the radio, and I wish I was one of the workers who would make you long cook Oats meal porridge and tasty toast.but as that not to be I will just read your beautiful writing and wait my time to join you and be your beautiful next door neighbor. Love your writing its very inspiring.

  5. Hello Frances lying here on my floor reading my Bible I over hear your lovely voice on the radio, and I wish I was one of the workers who would make you long cook Oats meal porridge and tasty toast.but as that not to be I will just read your beautiful writing and wait my time to join you and be your beautiful next door neighbor. Love your writing its very inspiring.

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