I’ve been looking at the boy with different eyes, lately. I think he’s planning on getting rid of me as soon as possible.
You see, the other day we were driving through town and passed by an old folks home to which the boy seemed very interested in, maybe a bit too interested.
“Hey, mom, what is that place?”
Having passed by the residency several times I knew what he was asking about. “That’s an old folk’s home.”
A long pause took place before he continued, “What do they do there?”
“Well, when people get too old to really take care of themselves or no one is around to care for them they go live there where there are nurses and caregivers who take care of them.”
“Why wouldn’t someone be able to take care of them at their house?”
“Well, sometimes their children just can’t do it, or won’t.”
“Their own kids put them there?!?” he was shocked.
“Well, yes, sometimes.” (notice how I keep saying “sometimes” I don’t want The Boy to think he HAS to send me away when I get old).
Another long pause as The Boy is thinking hard on this one. “How old are they?”
“The people who live there, how old are they?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. It really depends.” I didn’t want to get into health, and maybe someone is just too sick to care for themselves even though they may not be OLD old.
We rode along in silence for a while, I thought he had dropped the subject, I was wrong. “How old are you, mom?”
My jaw dropped, “Um, yea, I’m not nearly old enough to go into an old folks home, not yet pal.”
Either he’s worried I’m going to run away to the old folks home and leave him to fend for himself or The Boy is already plotting on me!