Since retiring, 17 years ago, life has taken on a wonderfully unhurried rhythm for Joan and me. These days, every morning feels a bit like the weekend, unstructured, calm, and free from the usual demands of a set schedule. For the most part, we don’t have to wake up at any specific time, and that small freedom has become one of retirement’s most treasured gifts.
There are only one or two exceptions to this leisurely pace, moments in the week where time still gently taps us on the shoulder. One of those mornings is either Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on when Joan’s sitter is scheduled to arrive, or when I’ve made plans to meet up with my friend Radek. The other is Sunday, which has become a kind of ritual, my weekly conversation with Michal at 11:00 a.m., a connection I look forward to and try not to miss.
Today was one of those blissfully unscheduled days. The sunlight was already stretching across the room by the time I stirred, and without any particular reason to rush, I finally rose around 10:30 a.m., enjoying the simple luxury of waking up slowly, at my own pace. In these moments, I’m reminded that retirement isn’t just an end, it’s a gentle beginning of a new, more peaceful chapter.
It’s a bit surreal to pause and realize that I’ve been on this earth for 80 full years, and that today marks the beginning of my 81st. There’s a quiet weight to that number, not heavy in a burdensome way, but rich with meaning, memory, and experience. I won’t ask the familiar question, “Where did the time go?”, because the truth is, I know exactly where it went.
The years unfolded in a steady stream of moments, choices, and chapters—some planned, some unexpected. I may not always understand why life took a particular turn or how one decision led to another, but in most cases, those turns were mine to make. The path wasn’t always straight, and the reasons weren’t always clear, but the agency was there. I steered the course, for better or worse, and that brings with it a kind of peace.
Looking back, I see a tapestry of people, places, and lessons, of mistakes that taught me, joys that sustained me, and even the quiet, ordinary days that built the foundation of a life well lived. And as I step into this next chapter, I do so with gratitude, not just for the time I’ve had, but for the awareness that I’ve been present in it, shaping it as I went.
