
I will be retiring in three months.
I don’t know how I feel about it yet. After all, 30 years is a long time.
I mean, I want to. Need to. But there’s something final about it. A page turned that gets me closer to the end of my story.
One time, years ago, I met someone after not seeing him for some time. I had been looking forward to seeing him; we were friends, but more than that, I had a serious crush on him. I had taken my time getting ready. Sure, I had gained a bit of weight over the years, and my hair was shorter, but I still thought I cleaned up well.
He said I let myself go.
Without going into any more detail about that failed meeting, that statement alone is probably any woman’s worse sucker punch to her vanity.
It’s amazing what comes to mind when one gets to this point in life—the point where you either retreat into the ether and let time take its course or decide, like I have, to take on a new journey. That moment was forefront in my memory. Not exactly the moment, but his comment.
So I have decided to let my self go. But this time, it will be with purpose. To find my true persona that I kept locked away so I could be a productive member of society.
As adults, we learn to shrink ourselves to survive. We all do it. Familial expectations, cultural expectations, and societal expectations-they all work together to make us become a cohesive unit.
Efficient.
Tools in a box.
It’s not a dreadful thing, nor is it something we should resent, although it’s easy to, especially if you have a creative mind. It’s just that after years of doing it, we tend to forget how it felt when we were children, how it felt to see the world as an open book, full of adventure, with free admission to us all.
I have decided, as I transition from worker bee to retirement, that I will rediscover who my true self is. What her desires are. I will remember what I promised her when we were young, and the world still felt like a wonderful place to be.
It’s not too late. I look around at other folks who, like me, are in their 60s or older. Some look worn down with care. But there are plenty of others who, if you look them in the eyes, there’s a spark there still, an ember waiting to be ignited.
Once I reached a certain age, I started a certain morbid countdown. I would say to myself, ‘Well, I should have 50 more years, 40 more, 30 more.’
So in essence, I was counting down to die. I was letting the ember turn cold. You can tell with those folks, too. They look defeated and done. I get that. Sometimes life is a heavy burden.
But I have decided to stop that morbid countdown. I have done what I could to make the best life for my family and to share the load with my coworkers.
I’m going to begin again the day I retire.
I’m going to reset the clock. I’m stubborn, so I know I can do that. Not to live forever, but to start living.
Because once we start waiting to die, well… we are just waiting to die. It's gonna happen to all of us eventually.
But why watch the clock? When death comes around, I want him to find me living. I mean, really living.
I still have an ember waiting to be ignited. Don’t you?
About the Creator
Sharon Smith
I've always loved to write and have never had the time to dedicate to it. Now that I am almost retired from my day job, I can pursue my passion. In addition to writing, I love learning about gardening and spoiling my cat, Piper.




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