My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.

I looked up.

“You went without me?”

“We knew you’d stress over all the details,” Colin replied. “We only put down a refundable deposit.”

“When do you want me to leave?”

He glanced at Jessica.

“January first.”

It was mid-November.

Eventually, they admitted the real reason: Lucas wanted my ground-floor bedroom. He was starting middle school and, according to them, needed his privacy.

Jessica patted my hand.

“You’ll be so much better off around people your own age.”

I looked at my son.

“It’s for the best, Mom,” he said.

I felt something inside my chest grow completely still.

Then I smiled.

“I agree.”

The relief on their faces was instantaneous.

That very night, I shut my bedroom door and dialed a number I already knew by heart.

“Richard,” I said when he answered. “I’m ready.”

On the night of November 30, I left a packed suitcase by the door.