My mother is 89. Two years ago, she moved in with me. Each morning I hear her getting up at around 7:30 AM. She then baby talks to and feeds the 23-year-old cat.
Afterward, she makes herself breakfast and sits in the sunroom drinking coffee until she comes to her senses.
Then she pushes her dust mop across the floors ( 2600 sq feet. ) for exercise. She will then cook if she feels like it, clean the kitchen, and do some calisthenics. In the afternoon, she does her beauty routine, which varies.
Occasionally, she sifts through her megalithic, expensive, and expansive wardrobe and either gifts me with stuff, donates, or sells them on the Real Real. I tell often her,
‘ Mom, you could have invested this money, and be living in a luxury home now.’ ‘ Eh,’ she replies. ‘ I love my clothes. Plus one day, all this will be yours because your sister has no taste.’
For fun, we take 3-mile walks by the lake about 5 times per week. She meets up with her girlfriends about once a month to party. She reads a lot and is working her way through my library. She daily speaks with her 91-year-old sister who lives in San Diego and visits twice a year. (My aunt still works as an accountant for a private client).
Aside from the cat, her greatest joy is her tablet, which I gave her last Christmas. She loves to read all about her favorite authors and composers, listens to the nonmainstream news, watch various ballets, operas, etc.
At midnight, I hear her saying something like- ‘ I should really go to sleep now but someone put Pavarotti in my YouTube! ‘
She and her sister won the genetic lottery. Photo is from 2 years ago. This is how she dressed to go on an airplane. ‘ I look horrible! ‘ she says. I try to emphasize the positive. ‘ Mom, most people are dead at your age.”