Nobody likes change. We don't like the unpredictable, especially in The Third Third. But there's no escaping it.

Change has come quickly for me. After falling and going into rehab, I didn't come back to my familiar apart- ment. With less mobility, and more need for medical care, I was moved to the assisted living facility in my complex.

MANY MEMENTOS

I wasn't a part of the moving. My son and my aide bundled up my belongings, having to shed many mementos and remnants of the past. They arranged the furniture the best they could and here I am.

My son asks me if I've adjusted to smaller quarters and I have to tell him no. But I don't want to sound like a sob sister. Friends call it ``cozy.''

I would like to find a few things though, like a picture of me and Eleanor Roosevelt. When I worked for the Washington Post in 1940, one of the many job privileges, along with a salary of $28 a week, was the bonus of attending the same union meetings as Eleanor Roosevelt, who then wrote a column, ``My Day.'' Years later, when I was living in Lima, Ohio, I was able to bring her to my hometown to speak, and drove her back to the airport. Somewhere in my belongings, there was a picture of me and Eleanor Roosevelt, but I don't know where it is. Then again, I can't remember when I last saw it.

SAVED SONGS

I was also wondering about the ditties my friend Millie and I wrote years ago in Manhattan. We'd rhyme spoon and June and save the songs for posterity.

In the midst of so much change, I am happy that my readers still want to hear my voice.

I recently heard from a woman who wrote me a very sweet card. She was 90 years old and now has problems with her hands shaking. She has good days and bad days. She was waiting for a good day to write me a note.

COLUMN MISSED

In handwriting that clearly took a lot of effort, she told me how much she missed the column the past few weeks. She told me she could relate to the many stages we've all gone through together. Such a nice letter and so much courage.

It made me realize that we just go on. There's a fear of not making it, of life rushing by, but we keep going. We wake up in the morning and we keep waking up.

Write to Claire Mitchel in care of The Miami Herald at 2010 NW 150th Ave., Pembroke Pines, FL 33028.

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