When I was seven years old, my father announced one day that we were moving to California. My reaction and my brother's were predictable. We went into a small panic at the prospect of going to a new school and having to make new friends. Our parents, just as predictably, assured us that it would turn out to be no big deal. Now the roles are reversed, in a way. My father, who's 76, is wrestling with a decision about whether to move from the house in which he lived with my mother while she was alive into a continuing-care retirement...
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