For weeks I‘d imagined the scene: On my first full day as a
new retirement community resident, I would leave my pile of boxes and go down
in the elevator for lunch, and walk the curving hall, with big windows
overlooking the lovely pond with fountains and water lilies, to the dining room
entrance. Study the lunch menu in the lighted case for the first time, then
walk into the dining room and find a seat. By myself. Surrounded by examining
eyes.
I’ve been on my own for a lot of years: Decades ago, as a
young widow, I founded a little marketing company that grew way beyond anyone’s
expectations. Traveled the country to clients alone, been in professional
meetings with total strangers. Circulated and made new acquaintances in crowded
rooms. Eaten in lots of restaurants alone. Confident and independent, you bet.
But now it would be different. I would be a newcomer, no longer in charge. This
entrance …
It’s a good thing my imagination hadn’t completely
overworked the dining room scene: When that first day actually came, I paused
in the dining room doorway, several faces lit up and a lovely woman who would
become a good friend walked up and rescued me, invited me to her table and introduced
me to her friends full of smiles and greetings. She explained the food ordering
process, so I was ready for the waitress’ arrival. My shoulders relaxed, and I
genuinely enjoyed the first of what would become hundreds of meals in that
bright, pretty dining room.
Most newcomers’ vision of comfort is that as soon as they
unpack, get all the electronics hooked up and get through a few other
settling-in hurdles, they’ll be ready to branch out. Guess what? We discover
that unpacking the last boxes isn’t nearly as important as making new friends.
Saying “yes” to an invitation, even to something that’s not usually at the top
of your list, might be a good plan during the early days. New relationships
will form over time, which are more valuable to your daily life than creature
comforts.
This is when you find it was a very good thing to make this
move before you had too many major ailments, limitations or were too frail to
participate in the activities that interest you most, including your own
hobbies you’d planned to spend time on during these years. I wish I had a
quarter for every senior who says: “I’m not ready yet!” — and later finds
themselves not in good enough health to qualify for independent living.
I sincerely hope “all of the above” helps you see the value
in making the decision to “right-size,” as they call downsizing today, before
you’re forced to — and your children or others have to make decisions you’d
rather make yourself.
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This blog appears weekly in this space, so please share your
comments and questions!
Let’s keep the conversation going!
Ann,
ReplyDeleteLoved the blog. Reminded me of the scene from the Steve Martin movie, The Lonely Guy: http://youtu.be/kQ7CNUuoe3E
Regards,
Tom