Surface Streets

It's strange, the English language, with all its rules that it breaks itself, and double entendres. I am grateful this is my primary language.

In the quiet yard and fields around us retirement comes to mind, which is defined as withdrawing into seclusion. We have certainly done that, and begun the journey from a life in town, and neighbors all around on a busy street on the way to the hospital. My brother turns 60 next month, eeh gads.

Our country neighbor, Sam, is at his project house 3 or 4 times a week. We typically find him sitting cross legged reading the paper in the heat of the afternoon, facing the sun. He is tall and wiry and just the type of guy to be digging a gigantic hole in his yard to install some sort of holding tank when temps soar to over 100 degrees. You wouldn't be seeing anything like that in town.

Life is only partially here watching the goings-on of the dragonflies and ground squirrels. We work full time still, not quite yet part of the self sustaining, idle elite. Some retirees we know are busier now than ever, whose lives continue to have purpose and focus. Wouldn't that be great, to continue to do what and when and how, and as often as possible.

Now that we are somewhere that needs shaping and purpose, the dream is more energized.  We see another dimension, with upkeep and tending things, and maybe a goat! .

One of the alternate meanings of retire is to re-tire a car. What good retirement advice, to toss a new set of tires on the old chassis and stay on the road! No need to give up the keys just yet. Off ramps lead to surface streets, and a lot more places to go.