Tonight I took my mom and her friend (both in their 80’s) to our friends’ home for dinner. As we drove back to drop V off at her duplex in the senior community where she lives, we passed the house where she lived most of her adult life. This last year, she passed the house on to her only daughter and downsized. In a wistful voice, she said, “There’s my house. Nobody’s home.”
My mom commented, “V really misses her house.” V’s hearing is not that good, but she knows when someone is talking about her, so Mom had to repeat the sentiment.
V chided herself, “Well, I don’t have any right to complain. I have a nice place.” Dramatic pause…then, in a querulous tone, “But since it is mine, I guess I’ll just complain whenever I feel like it.”