The age-old dilemma of age.

• Author: Puterbaugh, Dolores T.
• Position: PARTING THOUGHTS

DEAR PARENTS, we're worried about you. You're not getting any younger. You can't handle the stairs/upkeep/expense. We've been talking about it, and we think it's time you downsized--maybe a nice one-story condo.

Dear children, we think you should mind your own business. This is our home. We have worked hard, and continue to work hard. We'll move when we're good and ready.

Dear parents, clearly you're not thinking straight on this. You are letting your emotions get the best of you. Sometimes it's just time to let go. This is that time.

Dear children, time to let go, eh? Just when are you planning to clear your teenage trash out of the basement--or what about the Botox we've been pretending not to notice? You are not "letting go" of your illusions of youth any better than we are letting go of our home.

Dear parents, stop changing the subject. You do this all the time. This isn't about us. It's about you. We think the place is too much for you. Look, we found some lovely little apartments, not far from here. It's close to the stores and it would be very easy.

Dear children, easy for whom? Easy for you to stop worrying?

Dear parents, yes, easy for us, but easy for you, too. You work so hard just keeping this place up--wouldn't it be nice to be able to take it easy?

Dear children, you are not as young as you think you are, but in some ways you are, apparently, very young. Let us explain this to you. This is our home. When we were first married, and you were very young, we struggled with money, but we had our love and our dreams. This home, and all of you, are the fruits of our love and our dreams. We have movies in our head, not yet lived out, of the happy, quiet years of old age to be lived here, punctuated by happy visits from all of you. When you tell us that you have decided it's time for us to move, you are telling us to toss out our dreams with the extra china.

Dear parents, we understand, really, we do. We get it, but you can't keep living like this. You can have happy quiet years somewhere else, somewhere newer and with less maintenance.

Dear children, you cannot really understand. The terrors you feel about a few wrinkles here, and your first "cheaters" reading glasses is nothing compared to the ongoing indignities of aging that await you. Growing old becomes a matter of having capabilities, freedoms, and now possessions and dreams, pulled away. We have very little of our dreams left, but this dream of our home, our last years together...