When my phone vibrates and I look and see that it’s a text from my Mom, I don’t read it right away because I know that there are 5 to 6 more texts on their way. Minutes later, once the phone has stopped vibrating, I’ll read her short essay. Her latest was about how she couldn’t get out of the recliner. She had leaned back so far that the chair was horizontal. We’ve all been there before. You basically have to send your body into violent convulsions in order to get out. Well, imagine if you’re 72 and have a fake hip. She feared that if she wiggled and jerked too hard that the chair would fall backwards, sending her into the wall. So she sat there, texting me what it was like being old and not being able to get out of the recliner. She wrote, “The only true struggle is that I don’t want to get out… I gotta do the laundry, scrub the toilet, clean my bedroom…” She’s constantly reminding me that even though we’re sometimes stuck, that doesn’t mean we’re not able to enjoy where we’re at.