"At my age, I doubt I have more than twenty good years left."
Terri Reinhart
Dad's turning 90 tomorrow. He has said all year he wanted a big blowout party for his 90th birthday. Unfortunately, we are all worn out at the moment and the big blowout is going to be much more of a quiet day with a number of visitors stopping by to wish him well.
We're worn out because we're in the process of moving them into an assisted living apartment. It's a huge move, especially for a couple of pack rats who are finding it difficult to downsize.
I've had the privilege of being able to spend time with Dad each week, taking him to the grocery store and helping him shop. After initially balking at the idea of the electric scooters, he is now a pro at driving around the store. He hasn't hit anyone yet. My biggest challenge is making sure he doesn't get more food than can fit in their fridge and trying to convince him he doesn't have to buy me a large package of Velveeta cheese - or anything else.
This time, during our weekly visit to the store, has been precious to me. Even though I know he won't need to buy groceries after their move, I've told him I'll still take him to the store - or somewhere every week. Maybe we'll go to a hardware store. I like hardware stores as much as he does.
I hope I can age as gracefully and with as much wonderful (and sometimes wicked) humor as he has.