One of the toughest things about living with my parents is the thought of not living with them. The realization that, the older they get, the closer we get to a time when they won't be there for me any more. I try not to be morbid about it, but every now and then I find myself obsessively reading the obituaries in the newspaper, checking the birth dates, and hoping for that elusive sense of relief that I feel when I discover (more infrequently these days) that all the people listed were born ten or fifteen years before my parents.
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Note: As of 2017, The New Homemaker is an archive. The articles on the site are all original to TNH. For more musings from Lynn, the person behind this site, go here.