When I woke up this morning, I had no plans to skip class. Sure, I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about jumping to a new school in a new neighborhood weeks before the end of the year, or leaving my friends behind. But when your parents split, that’s how the cheese rolls.
It’s just too bad it rolled into a senior’s care facility.
Not that I can really blame Mom for that. Pickings were pretty slim for an elderly care specialist who’d taken 13 years off to be a mom. I’m not so self-absorbed to realize she had to take what she could to support the two of us. Palm Estates offered a live-in job, close to a school, with a condo price tag she could afford.
It’s just life isn’t all cake, living in a building full of seniors. Calls come in at all hours, complaining about all sorts of ailments. In the last week, I’d learned way more than I’d ever hoped to about what happens to the body when it reaches the down slope of Ol’ Faithful. Aches, pains, mysterious rashes….no way was I getting old. Nuh-uh.
Mom had tried to get me pumped up about this place by highlighting the outdoor pool. You know, the whole hang-with-your-friends deal. I pointed out that having a bunch of eighty-year-olds in saggy suits didn’t exactly incite my desire to have people over for a pool party.
Would I rather live somewhere else? Sure. But if ‘somewhere else’ was back at my old house with my control freak dad, then no way. In my mind, option B was way worse that having old people for neighbors.