The bathroom is where the clever thinking really shows. There is no lip on the shower at all — the floor simply slopes towards the drain, so Joan can walk straight in. The grab rails are matte brass rather than hospital steel, the mirror is tilted slightly downwards, and a folding seat tucks away flat against the wall when she doesn't need it. It looks like a spa. It works like a safety net.
Then there's the bedroom, and the detail Rachel can't talk about without her voice going. The window above Joan's bed looks straight at the kitchen window of the main house, thirty feet across the grass. Every night Joan switches her lamp on and off twice. Rachel flashes the kitchen light back. Goodnight, Mum. Goodnight, love. Thirty feet apart — and closer than they have been in years.
Would you build one of these for your own mother?