After living 13 years in a rented renovated chicken coop, I have moved twice in 2015, the latest being august 15th, when my daughter Erin and my granddaughter Denali  helped along with man-friends and family-men for which I am very greatfull. The sofa is a queen-size pull-out bed which means it is extra heavy, needing at least 4 people to carry. Being in the last year of my sixties, I am greatfull that I can carry many boxes and furniture, while ruling out the sofa. Almost. I did lend a small brief hand.

The following weekend my daughter Megan traveled with her daughters, Riley and Emily from Boston for their yearly visit to our home town of Ithaca, NY. My granddaughters (13 and 11) immediately claim the sofa bed, and there is no talking them out of it. Megan claims my double bed, and is not willing to sleep with her mother. So, being the camper I am, I am relegated to the carpeted floor in my sleeping bag, quite amazed that they are all very comfortable with this arrangement.

Then, I think to myself…isn’t it wonderful that they SEE me as this young spring chicken, peacefully living without a rooster. Yet, in my sleeping bag I can dream of one.