When my bold, free-spirited mother reached her mid-70s, she found that maintaining her home in Florida alone had become too expensive and demanding. My sister lived in a nearby town, but was busy with her large family and wasn’t able to be there as much as our mom needed.
“Come live with us, Mom. It will be relaxing and peaceful,” I offered.
So, in 2020, at the age of 76, my mom relocated from Florida to my home in upstate New York, bringing her two dogs and her most prized possessions, with the intention of spending her golden years with my two youngest daughters and me. We had always gotten along well and expected this to be the perfect solution.
Having her with us was wonderful at first
At first, it was delightful. We were happy to spend so much time together after she had been living so far away for many years. She had moved from New York to Florida over 30 years earlier and had also moved alone to the Dominican Republic and then to Costa Rica in her 60s for a few years, just for the adventure.
Meanwhile, I find it stressful just to go to a new grocery store. We should have known. Although we have a lot in common — we love creating and growing things, enjoy sitting alone reading for hours, she likes cooking, I like baking — living in separate states for most of my life had masked our differences.
We realized how different we are
My mom is gregarious and sociable, and has many friends. I am the opposite. I am single, live in the woods, work from home for 10 hours a day, and have fewer than a handful of friends with whom I socialize. Together, we occasionally ventured out to the farmers market, to a café for lunch, went thrift shopping, and sold handmade goods at a local lavender farm in the summer — mom knitted and hand-sewed cat toys to benefit the care of feral cats — but my work schedule and my daughters kept me home much of the time.
My mom discovered too late that I am way too quiet and boring for her liking. She was used to managing every aspect of her wide world like the strong, independent Wonder Woman she is, and suddenly found herself after a long winter feeling like Alfred Pennyworth in Batman’s cave.
She did have friends here, as she lived in New York for many years, but it was nothing like her busy social life in Florida. She did have more time to enjoy things she loved, like knitting, cooking, watching history shows, and shopping with her closest friend once a week.
She also discovered some new joys here, including listening to my daughters sing as they got ready for school, hearing geese honk overhead to announce their arrivals and departures, and laughing with the “Golden Girls” on TV. But when the most interesting things she was accomplishing were counting the number of bird species that came to her feeder and sitting in her room knitting for hours each day, my mother knew something had to change.
Mom decided to move back to Florida out of boredom
Eventually, Mom decided she was too lonely and bored to stay. Since she had come to live with me, her life had become too small and quiet for her comfort or happiness. She looked around at her newly shrunken life and realized that she had suddenly become an old lady! My fiercely independent mother cannot be contained and restrained in this way.
My mom decided to move back to Florida after a two-year stint. She is now 81 and living in a small mobile home on my sister’s property, where she happily socializes with her friends, pet-sits, creates art, and takes care of her dogs and chickens.
She discovered that although she no longer wants the responsibility and demands of her own house and property, she’s happiest living alone in her own space, with support close by, but not in the next room. And she wouldn’t mind someday dying of old age, but dying of boredom is out of the question.
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