When I consider the word “home” it conjures up a safe haven. A place where one can live alone or with loved ones and a place to enjoy with friends. It’s a place to build memories and a place where we can truly just be ourselves.

It is easy to see why aging in place, or remaining in our home as we age, has such an allure. Also, as my mom tells me, “When you get old, like I am, you just don’t like a lot of change.”

That makes a lot of sense logically until it doesn’t. Life, especially at an older age, often brings with it physical changes and sometimes cognitive ones that challenge our assumptions about our home being a safe haven.

When stairs become a problem in reaching your bedroom, bathroom or laundry room, or when you are unable to enter your bathtub due to balance issues, or you must commit to a life of social isolation because you can no longer hear the telephone or doorbell ring; these unthinkable changes can make a home a dangerous place to be.

A friend stopped by over the holidays to say hello.

I knew her from work activities, and we became friends, grabbing lunch occasionally and sharing anecdotes about our lives. She was a highly skilled individual, educated, and successful. I enjoy my time with her because our conversations are stimulating.

My friend has been retired for over a year now after planning and announcing her decision a full year in advance.

We began to talk about her old work life, and she recounted something that recently happened that upset her.

She ran into an old work acquaintance, a gentleman, who asked her (referring to her retirement), “What do you do?”