When we were kids we knew a very old woman named, Dona Maria. She lived in a little Mexican village where we had a small adobe house. She spent her days, every day, all day, clamoring around inside the rusted hulk of an abandoned threshing machine in the middle of a huge field of sagebrush raiding the chicken nests and sucking the bejeebers out of the just laid eggs.
Everyone knew where she was.
She was safe, she was happy and it beat the heck out of assisted living.
8 years ago