Next week I am moving to Wilson Street. It has a big sunny deck and a heat pump and feels like a home. Jessie and Laura live there. Jessie studies forget-me-not’s, and she and I have been friends since high school. Laura is a speech therapist from America who likes blue-grass music.

Wilson Street is close to the pool and town and Moshim’s Discount Grocery Store. People that live down the road include my girl Emmie, my sister Kath, my goddaughter Beatrix and her mum Heather Superjohn.

There is just one step to the front door at Wilson Street. It’ s a flat street, so I’ll be able to walk down it sometimes. It’s not the perfect house for accessibility, but it’s a hundred times better than the hundred steps in Days Bay.

I didn’t plan on moving out. Jessie just mentioned that I might want to move in. Then I realised that, with a bit of help, it would be possible. It’s never felt like that before; somewhere along the line, living independently stopped being out of the question. I was surprised and very pleased.

So I lined up a bit of help and said yes.  I can’t wait.