A Final Address?

I knew I had to find another place to live when I sold my manufactured home which was address # 35 but had very few clues to where that might be. I was looking for somewhere that I could live comfortably, have easy access to things like groceries and the post office without driving. I sent a deposit that would put me on a waiting list at the place my friend Emily was living in the Portland area and checked many others online. Independent living is very expensive and since covid, all the perks and activities had been canceled with guests often not being allowed in. They didn’t change the prices.

While I visited my son during Thanksgiving, we looked at what little was available in his area. Again, we could not enter one building due to active covid contract by residents. All I could see was floor plans and in the other I could see the common areas. I was not impressed by any of them.

My son sent an e-mail with photos of the place three blocks from his house that was available when I arrived home. In Portland, I was still on a waiting list with no availability.

I signed the lease online while in Germany so I had a place to land when arriving home. I remembered the place as dark and depressing. It had adequate space and was attached physically to the very quiet senior center. They serve lunch and cook for meals on wheels having procured a new chef. I would make the best of it.

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There are thousands of women that can’t even afford to live here much less the nicer places. I talk to them everyday as they struggle to find a safe spot in the world. I consider myself very blessed to have what I do.

I’ve been here over a month now and barely getting adjusted to the altitude. Coming from sea level to 6300 ft hit the old lungs hard. Perseverance is my middle name so each day we did something to make life workable until I could get my things out of storage.

The kids brought over an old sofa bed that I had given them years ago belonging to my last Mother-in-law. I’d recovered it years before passing it on and it still looked nice. With the mattress topper, it slept well enough until a new bed was bought and delivered. In the meantime, my daughter-in-law had collected a few things to make the kitchen and bathroom function. They offered back an old second hand dresser that my mother had used for fabric storage. It was functional so I sanded it down in the kitchen and repainted it.

Original

We haunted thrift stores for a few things and I found a cute little end table some young man had probably made in wood-shop. It received the same treatment. Before it was all over, I had most of the furniture I needed and now all that is left is to fly to Portland and have my stuff loaded into a U-Haul for my son to drive back so I can set up my sewing room. That’s my favorite part. I can hardly wait. By next week, I’ll be eating off my own dishes and cooking in my own pots. The senior center lunch room may rarely see me.

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Have you thought about your final address or are you already there?

From my heart to yours,

Marlene Herself