Gratitude
I think it was Meister Eckhart who suggested that, when we don’t know what to pray, we begin with “thank you.”
I seem to be having many conversations lately about retirement. Even my younger sisters are beginning to count not only the years but the months. I hope to retire from teaching sometime in the next few years. I hope never to retire as a writer. I want to be writing poems and stories and novels — and blogposts! — when I’m 90. When I’m 100.
“I’m fifty-three,” “I’m fifty-eight,” “he’s fifty now!” These conversations inevitably make me think of my husband who, thirteen years ago (on July 20, 1999) at age fifty-nine, adopted a baby.
And not to forget, a pic of the interior of my writing cabin. Thank you, Bruce.
How lovely, all of it. Thank you.
Retirement is a good thing. You could say I retired several years ago from my fifteen-year stint as an activities assistant at a nursing home so I could write full time. Of course I didn’t collect any retirement pay because I only worked part time, and I was only in my forties, but it felt like retirement to me.
So you didn’t retire, Abbie; you switched careers!