A place has been chosen for my mother to spend the rest of her life.

It is new and clean and big but not as big as the first place we looked. It is not as small as the third place and does not have the second place’s Doctor Octopus showering contraption. The carpet on the floor is a solid color so the residents do not get confused. It does not smell like pee or Ben Gay. The doors are frosted so the residents can’t look out and try to escape. She will go in just over a week, and they are advising us to not visit her for a few days so she can get acclimated.

I very much would like to punch someone in the face, especially some ignoramus guilty of saying that we just callously throw our elderly into old folks’ homes. And the 9 non-consecutive years I spent in training in the martial arts has allowed me to know exactly what that would feel like, to punch someone in the face. Hot, and smacky, and gratifying.

My mother would have appreciated that.