Assisted living.

When I've had extra time, I have been helping our friend J move from her house around the corner into an assisted living apartment a few miles away. She had a moving company come to the house, so all I really helped her with were some lamps and fragile boxes that she didn't want the movers to touch. I packed her car with those things, and off we went to her apartment.

She had downsized her household furniture and accessories when she moved here from Louisiana a few years ago, and now she has had to downsize once again, moving from the house to the apartment. J is our friend whose tiny Yorkie passed away recently, sending J's heart into a frenzy, which sent her to the local hospital for a few days a short while back.

The house J lived in belonged to her son, who had decided to sell it right about the time when J was beginning to feel that the house without her five-pound Yorkie in it was too big a house for just her. That little Yorkie was the most beautiful dog...... and such a wonderful loyal companion and friend for J, who is a five-star dog lover.

A few miles down one of our main roads here is a very nice assisted living complex. It looks more like a huge hotel than a compilation of apartments.... lush palm tree-lined landscape, intricate gated entrances, individual balconies on all the apartments, a putting green, a swimming pool, flower gardens. Plus they have maid service, a five-star restaurant, private van service to take you all over town.

Still... after years of independent living, settling down into an assisted living apartment has got to be a tough thing to do. And J is one independent lady. She doesn't mind company, but she doesn't want neighbors to always be at her front door. She paints, reads, gardens, shops... not your run-of-the-mill sedate senior citizen who wants to play Bridge and gossip over the coffee cups, and whisk away the aphids from the rose bushes. She is a lady with a capital L and I admire her very much.

I went to J's yesterday to help her hang up her paintings and rearrange some of the furniture. She kept all of her favorite antiques, but they look a bit different now in her smaller rooms... just as beautiful, but different. After tweaking some of the pieces here and there, by the time we were done it did look just a teeny bit more spacious--- especially after the paintings that were leaning up against the walls had been hung up on the walls. But it is what it is, and J's new address is now the very well-known assisted living complex at the other side of town.

Our corner neighbor S has already told J that when it comes to party time at our house, J shouldn't worry about having to drive herself back home after dark. S assured J that there would always be someone who could drive down there to pick her up and then take her back home after the party. (I have to laugh.... The parties are always at our house, mind you, and everyone takes it for granted that with each passing calendar page, the little Party Elves will come out and wave their magic wands. Poof! It's another party!)

When I left J's apartment yesterday afternoon, I knew that she was missing being here in this neighborhood. I also knew that she was missing her little Yorkie-- that didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out... the first pictures to go up on the walls were those that J herself painted of her beloved little Babe.

In the words of my Pennsylvania friend A, "Growing old is the pits."

I will miss knowing that J is just a few streets away. She doesn't live that far away, but a very short walk just seems different than having to get into the car to drive down the main road here to visit with her. I hope she will be happy there..... but I know that her small apartment must be just as lonely as the big house was, now that her little dog is no longer with her.

Cats. Dogs. All pets. You love them for years, for as long as they're with you.... and in the end, your heart just breaks into bits. And it doesn't matter if you're living in two rooms or ten-- the silence without them is just deafening.