Another reorientation. “Why is the French Broad considered one of the oldest rivers in the world” leads to realizing all the upstream and downstream imagined for the past week flows the other way. Like the St. John’s in Florida the French Broad flows northward.

Nearly twenty years ago when they chose that upstream locale for retirement their eldest pleaded to move closer to him in California instead. But they weren’t impressed with what money would buy for housing in the Bay Area. They visited Iowa and my father called it “folksy.” They considered Florida. Instead they accepted the encouragement of my mother’s cousins and aunt to move to Western North Carolina which was a great choice: beauty, family, friendship.

Naturally the home became too much to care for especially with aging concerns of their own. Late in the game in the fall of 2020 the condo next to ours became available and I sent photos and blueprints before it was listed on market. It wasn’t the first opportunity. The year prior the cousins arranged meetings and made connections for them within their retirement village. And there was an independent living opening in the community where my mother ultimately ended up residing in memory care after my father passed. Friendly, elder-oriented downsizing services were already in place — so many services in that compassionate locale.

I have thought a lot about his last night in his own bed, his own home, next to his wife of more than sixty years — his own terms. In all the what ifs, the single best option would have been for a caregiver to live in the downstairs studio space with its own separate entrance and large enclosed patio near a stream facing a small lake. They thought ahead when they chose that place and my father knew the score.

Countdown: 55/267