Coming to terms in At the foot of the hill

I am 81 years old. My dear husband is 85. Even though we have had a few issues lately, our health is comparatively good.
As I have mentioned a few times lately, I really want to go somewhere. In reality, I really DON’T want to GO anywhere. Truth is, anywhere we might want to be for a little while is a long, long ways away. The idea of driving for 12 or 18 hours suddenly horrifies us. The hassle of flying (if we were going somewhere that we could actually fly to) is nothing we want to cope with anymore.
We are thinking we just can’t do it.
Great-grandbaby Cecil is going to have his first birthday in a couple of weeks and we would so love to see him. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen. The good news is that the family is planning a trip to see us in July. That’s a long time to wait and the boy now has all kinds of teeth and is walking and trying to talk. But it will be so much easier for us if they can come here. They are young and flexible....