I sit on the porch in a well-padded and well-raised lawn chair, drinking my first cup of coffee of the morning and think about how heavy the dew weighs on the already-needing-a-good-mowing grass. I squirm around to a more comfortable position to ease the ache in my hips and back-each new position affords only a few minutes respite-and then it's on to another one. I'm not complaining, mind you, I figure any day that I wake up and manage to get dressed, make coffee, and make it to the front porch, is a very good day.
I remember a time when I could walk for miles, climb rock trails without breaking a sweat, sight-seeing, camping, fishing, nature trails, water parks, theme parks-no aches, no pains-feeling I could just go on and on forever. When those things become
memories, it is time to start re-evaluating your priorities.
Reaching high above your head to unsnap the cover all the way around your 24 foot pontoon, climbing seven or eight feet up top to roll back and fold up the heavy cover, then hauling it down to store in the back of the truck-that's the first to go. Everyone loves to go out on the lake in a plush, fully equipped pontoon; but not many like to hang around when it comes time to load it back on the trailer and replace the cover in preparation of hauling it back home. So, you sell the pontoon on which you have spent several enjoyable summers camping on, fishing and diving from, and had lovingly named
The Minnie Bell after your grandmother. You miss it for the first few weeks, but you don't miss the hard work involved with putting it into and taking it out of the water, and so it begins-
life changes,
priority changes.
You still have your bass boat and your love of fishing and just being out on the water on a bright clear morning fills you with such a peace and love of life that you suddenly realize, it doesn't take much to be happy.
Then, just as suddenly you notice that there is pain in your elbow more and more often, as you deftly place that bass lure in the dappled shadows below an over-hanging branch. Your heart soars as you feel the quick jerk on the line and you know you have him hooked. He's a fighter and you reel him in allowing no slack. Finally, you have him at the side of the boat and grab the dip net and slide it under the tired bass. He's a beauty, a real keeper. Grabbing his lower jaw, ignoring the sharp pain in your elbow, you lift him up and smile while your husband gives you a thumbs-up and snaps off a shot on his phone camera.
You're both tired now. Only four hours out and every joint in your body has begun to scream. Your husband is faring no better. His hip replacement didn't go well and has never healed properly. Working the trolling motor for just a few hours when just last year he could have gone all day with no complaint, has become more than he can handle. Your body tells you it's time to pack it in and head home while your mind urges you, just one more cast. Landing at the boat ramp, you jump down off the front of the boat (a height of maybe two feet); your knees won't hold you and down you go. You have to use the front of the boat to pull yourself back up on your feet.
A sadness envelopes you, as you and your husband watch the much younger man from Louisana leaving your driveway hauling the boat behind him-your boat, or at least up until you sold it to him. Now the boat is gone. What will you do now to fill your days and keep your mind from pondering the changes that are taking place in your life? You have your reading (at least your eyes are still good) and your writing (arthritis hasn't set into your knuckles, for that you are grateful). Your husband has his shop and every tool imaginable. He can't build cabinets anymore, but he putters and seems happy enough just tinkering on the kids' toys and repairing that broken yard swing that has been sitting in the shop for two years.
The six-plus-acre yard needs mowed again and although you have two commercial size lawn mowers-one for you and one for your husband-you dread the jarring and jolting and hot sun that even your straw hat can't ward off. But someone has to do it and now your kids have all moved away. They have lost interest in the country' that they had loved so much when they were younger. Then, there's always the weed-eating, a chore that makes even the strongest of wills to shiver and leaves your hands and arms shaking convulsively long after you have put the weed eater away. Lately the weed eating has been by-passed more often than done-your back won't hold up to it and your husband's shoulder surgery won't allow him the luxury of keeping the weeds at bay. You could always pay a landscaper to come by once a week and do all the yard work-but social security didn't take that into account when they calculated your monthly income.
Your husband places his arm across your shoulders and pulls you close as you watch the realtor hammer the
FOR SALE sign at the edge of your yard. When you were thirty-ish, this was going to be your retirement home-away from the city, the hustle and bustle of hurry-here and hurry-there. But retirement has other plans for you in mind and it doesn't include a house too large for one old person to clean, a lawn too big for two old people to manicure, a pool that needs cleaned at least once a week-covered in the fall and uncovered in the spring. Unless you are independently wealthy, retirement can be a whole world of surprises and not all pleasant. All those wonderful plans of travel, fishing, sight-seeing, camping, and whatever else you had in mind become re-prioritized into whole new categories-some listed under "
Never " . But all this doesn't mean you can't have a wonderful and happy retirement. There are great movies to watch, books to read, games to play-my husband and I love playing card games, Pitch being our favorite. We have started looking around for a nice gated' community or just a small house in a quiet, clean neighborhood. Or we may decide on a lake house with a dock to fish from-as long as there are good hospitals and medical clinics in close proximity. And maybe neighbors who enjoy playing cards-possibilities are endless when you put your mind to it. We have already come up with a great list of things we might want to do and see in the next few years. Who knows what opportunities will open when we really begin to look around us?
