My 96-year-old mother has the kind of health any 60-year-old would kill for. Her blood pressure is normal, her sugar and cholesterol levels are better than mine. She enjoys as much food as her remaining teeth allow and all her bodily systems are functioning normally, more or less.
A previously broken thigh bone makes her a bit wobbly on her feet, yet she shuns walking sticks or walkers because they are bothersome. She should not be walking around on her own, but we know that when she's alone, she loves sneaking to the window to observe the goings-on in the compound. She is still the matriarch of her little empire, and she wants to know how everyone is keeping, down to the resident dogs and cats.
"The squirrels are eating all the mangoes," she might remark. I can vouch for that, since a few half-eaten ripe fruits have been accidentally dropped by some careless little fingers onto the windscreen of my car.
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