I think it’s time for my folks to move in.

We have a big house. We bought it in summer of 2009, after the economy tanked in 2008. It was bigger than we needed. Bigger than we wanted. Bigger than any home my husband and I had ever before inhabited.

It’s a four bedroom brick colonial built in 1978- a typical Mid Atlantic style. The construction is topnotch. The lines are lovely, the interior well thought out and designed for gracious hospitality and family connection. Over the 11 years in it, we have stuffed it too full of furniture (mostly hand-me-downs) and we have purged back to a sensible amount. We have painted and done low key updates- mostly things we can do ourselves.

Every time I look at the white formica countertops in the kitchen and think how nice it would be to update them, I can’t do it. I would rather take the kids on a trip to visit family on the West Coast or plan a new adventure to Athens or Paris. So the kitchen and bathrooms are outdated- who cares? I don’t think my kids mind, and I bet they liked that trip to Greece more than brushing their teeth in a fancy new bathroom.

The house works really well for us, and when we bought it, we recognized that it would be spacious enough to accomodate our parents when that time came. Well, I think that time has come.

I’m an only child- sort of. I’ll save that story for another day. Suffice to say, the care of my parents falls on me, and I am glad. This is exactly when I appreciate that quality in myself that I usually rein in… my inner control freak! I unabashedly want to have more control over how my parents are adjusting to their increasing physical limitations. I want to take my mom for a ladies’ lunch and hit a few antique shops for fun. I want them close to me so I can be sure they are well cared for and have their needs met.

They live in a darling mountain town in Arizona. It has been a great home for them over the last 16 years when they escaped the Orange County-Los Angeles megalopolis. They have made good friends there, and they like their a sweet little Episcopal church that does a lot of important outreach ministry. There’s the Soroptomist Club for mom, the American Legion for dad. It will be a big change for them, for sure, to move back east.

It will be a big change for us, too. I know that there will be annoyances and irritations. So what (she says before they move in!) -right now I’m thinking about the help with the gardening, the smell of my mom’s meatloaf in the oven, watching their faces light up when Piper puts on a cute outfit assembled from thrift store finds, or when Everett regales us at supper with a new story about something wild that happened on the farm where he works. I want my kids to know my parents well, and for them to know their grandchildren. I want that delight in sharing the small, good things with one another.

And, I want to accompany them on doctor’s appointments. I want to make life easier for them. Especially since my dad is needing more and more care from my mom.

Because of COVID-19, they did not come for a month-long visit at Easter as planned. We did not have a chance to look at senior community options, or talk face to face about building an addition to our home. We’ve started that conversation by phone instead, and they are warming to the idea. We certainly have a big enough house- can we live in it together? Can we fashion it into space that allows privacy yet connection? Independence yet assistance?

We talked to a builder friend. He recommended a favorite architect who likes multigenerational family projects. The architect made some good drawings and had really good ideas. Mom likes it, and dad likes whatever mom likes. Here we go!