About three weeks into retirement, I banned General George S. Patton from our morning coffee. Not from our home, nor from Michael’s reading list or the library where the General is shelved. Not from the lower level dining table where 1/72 scale tank models, dice and game pieces were waiting to do battle on a game board. Just from the first hour of the day, when I have not yet spoken a word, and Michael’s mind is already at the Battle of the Bulge.

Before retirement, our daily routine started with Michael kissing me goodbye and leaving for work where he talked to people all day, and I remained home with my quiet. That was our system, and it worked well. 

Then he retired, and the morning quiet disappeared. Now there was nowhere for the words to go except across the breakfast table towards me. George S. Patton arrived early on with the first cup of coffee. I did my best to allow his morning visits, but finally, I issued the ban. 

The new rules to survive coffee hour now are: Michael chats for a while, and I listen while I sip. Then the talking stops, and we read or sit quietly together watching the birds outside our windows. Mornings work again. 

The coffee rule solved the mornings. What took longer to understand was that what kept colliding at the breakfast table ran deeper than our approaches to morning. It was showing us who we actually are.

A Type 1 and Type 4 in Retirement

Michael, an extrovert and Enneagram 1, needs to be with people to reenergize. He wakes up ready to talk, even before the first cup of coffee, and genuinely believes this is reasonable behavior. Michael likes a schedule and things kept orderly. He finds comfort in structure and clarity. 

I’m different. As an introvert and Enneagram 4, I value quiet and contemplation. I need to think things through, and then talk about them. Although I don’t need a schedule, I should have one, or nothing gets finished. I move from one thing to the next without needing closure. I set projects aside and come back later. I live in the middle of ideas. 

These are two very different ways of being in the world. Where Michael knows how to build, I know what color to add. Our differences make our life together interesting, but they also can cause challenges. What we are finding in this season of retirement is that harmony isn’t about one of us changing our nature. It’s about staying present long enough to learn about each other again and find a shared rhythm that works.

And some mornings, that learning begins before coffee.