The words hit somewhere I wasn’t ready for.
I picked up the jacket and held it against my chest.
“You don’t have to move.”
“I want to.”
“Why?”
“The stairs bother my knees. The yard takes more work every year. I barely use four rooms in a ten-room house.”
“You don’t have to move.”
“I can hire someone for the yard.”
Mom shook her head.
“Listen to yourself.”
I stopped.
“You’ve answered every problem except mine.”
“Listen to yourself.”
“What problem?”
“I don’t want to manage this house anymore.”
I looked around the hallway.
“This is home.”
“It’s been home for 46 years. That doesn’t mean it has to be forever.”
“Where would you even go?”
“This is home.”
“I found an apartment closer to town: ground level, smaller kitchen, no yard. I can walk to a few places if I feel like it.”
My eyes moved toward the window.
“The car.”
