To be clear, they did not move into a single-level home because they woke up one day suddenly feeling “old.” Nor did they make the move because they were physically unable to navigate stairs any longer. When they made this move, they were both in great physical shape. Ten years later, my stepdad still does his 10,000 steps every day.

They moved because they were smart, and because stairs have a long history of betraying otherwise capable adults. Though esthetically harmless, these tiny architectural terrorists just sit there, pretending to be part of the décor, when suddenly, in a rogue moment of overconfidence, and a loose shoelace, they attack. One minute you’re upright, reciting the wrong lyrics to a song in your head, and the next you’re negotiating gravity in what can only be described as a surprise audition for the emergency room. Those seemingly innocuous stairs have betrayed you. And that is how “right-sizing” begins.

I often hear the term downsizing to describe this move. I despise this term. This implies sacrifice and loss. I visualize some sad little main-level condo with beige carpet and a plastic plant on the window propped atop the windowsill.

My parents didn’t downsize. This was not a loss for them. It was a gain. They right-sized. They simply edited out the stairs, all the unused rooms filled with plastic grapes and fabric scraps, and the extra bathroom nobody used but still had to be cleaned.

What they kept was space to entertain, room for grandkids, a real primary suite and a super-sensible and aesthetically pleasing layout. It was never about going smaller. It was about having smart, usable space.

What finally pushed my parents over the proverbial edge (instead of the stairs), first entailed a look into a remodel. This idea quickly turned into financial nonsense. It was surely cheaper, and infinitely better, to buy or build a home already designed for how they actually live.

What I know, but would never personally educate them on myself, is that falls are one of the leading causes of injury in adults over 55 years of age. These are not dramatic falls like the kind you see in movies. There is no freeze-frame, slow motion, or flailing arms (there might be flailing arms). These are regular, boring, Tuesday-afternoon falls. They often occur when the stairs, our trusty friends, the ones who have always been there for us, in the same place, seem to suddenly move. A costly betrayal.

I was grateful they decided this for themselves before I ever had to educate them. Honestly, I think stairs become annoying long before they become dangerous. First it may be laundry, then suitcases, then returning storage, then the joints. They did not just wake up one morning unable to use stairs. They woke up more morning thinking, “Why are we doing this to ourselves.”

They chose to become proactive instead of reactive. They didn’t wait for injuries or surgeries followed by a doctor-mandated lifestyle change. They simply chose comfort in the form of single-level living. This included wide hallways, open spaces, easy flow and great outdoor covered patios. They chose to still have some lawn area to maintain as well as a small garden area, and while not all single-level homes exist in 55+ communities, they chose one that did.

Frankly, this surprised me. While my mom was pleasantly social, sweet, and always accommodating, my slightly grumpy and at times unpleasant (his words, not mine) step-father was far less than social. He would be the last person to volunteer for a night of neighborhood Bingo.

However, he did love that the neighborhood was walkable and that there was an option for yard care as well as snow removal if the time ever came that he needed or wanted that option. He loved the lock-and leave freedom for travel and ironically, he quickly grew to love the neighbors who actually know each other and became instrumental in watching out for my mom when her memory began to give way. In fact, after she passed, he became very good friends with many of these people and has even travelled with some of them.

For them, it was an easy trade. Less maintenance meant more living; and what they didn’t know at the time, but later learned, is that the more living part would be exactly what they needed in the little time my mom had left.

My parents didn’t lose independence, they gained valuable time, peace of mind, and a home that doesn’t require a strategic plan just to take a shower. They did not slow down; they removed obstacles from everyday life. They chose ease over ego and function over square footage.

Here’s the truth nobody puts on real estate flyers: You don’t get bonus points for keeping stairs.

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com.