“Are you really going to go through with this?” Beverly asked while her eyes lit up with a mix of curiosity and excitement. I told her that I was seventy years old and I was not going to let anyone take away the peace I had worked so hard to earn.
My friend gave me a knowing smile that only exists between women who have finally learned to value themselves. She understood that at our age there is no more time to waste on people who do not value our sacrifices.
“What do you need me to do to help you?” she asked without a single moment of hesitation or judgment. That question reminded me why Beverly was my best friend because she did not ask me to consider Randall’s feelings or tell me I was overreacting.
“For now, I just need you to drive me to a few places this week and keep this entire thing a secret,” I replied. We spent the rest of the morning planning the details and Beverly told me how her own daughter had tried to convince her to move to a nursing home.
“It is incredible how our own children treat us like we are incompetent the moment we turn sixty,” Beverly said while we washed the dishes. We both agreed that adult children often used maternal guilt as a tool for manipulation.