I see my retirement as a time of liberation, picture myself sitting by a lake,
lunching at a favorite restaurant, then settling in with a book for the remainder
of the day, or until football comes on. Or getting up early, hiking a desert
studded with saguaros, then retreating to a cool portico for an iced tea and siesta
in my chair. Yes exactly: those will be the days. Should be a hoot!
Unless, the nearer those golden years approach, the less agile my mind becomes.
And I begin to lean in closer to address my students, who start to seem like
a second family to me. And peer over my half-glasses, determined to recall
first names, and scan the glazed faces to spark any memory I can of my daughter
and her friends. Smiling at the young people and shaking my head,
recalling the times as a single father I was forever working or commuting,
planning elaborate play-dates and parties on weekends, then letting the kids
trash the house. Maybe cadging just a few seconds during an orientation meeting
like today’s to jot notes on the back of a schedule adjustment form, half-attending
to the announcements. But knowing these days hold ore in them, too.
©2012 This work is the property of the author.