See Part One: Home is Where We Open Our Suitcases for the first part of this post.
Part Two
The summer is coming to a close in the upper midwest. Our days are shortening, evenings cooling and the cicadas are performing their annual fall concert each night. This first summer in retirement was different than we expected. Our calendar and its friend, unexpected circumstances, accomplished that with force and authority.
Coming back from Italy in late April put us right into the end of the school year and lots of programs and travel to see grandchildren. We also decided to travel in early June with friends to Cozumel. We had a wonderful time even with the weather throwing in a tropical storm. Who minds an extra day or two in the sun and surf as a result? We had a busy next few months coming up on the calendar, so we relaxed and enjoyed our time.
If this were a movie, you would hear a cautionary sound indicating a grave new plot twist due to an unexpected circumstance. Cyclospora came home with me from Cozumel. This is not food poisoning. It is far worse and lasts far longer with side effects that are similar to long covid. We made adjustments to the calendar for the next several weeks, and I came close to missing a long awaited trip to Scotland.
Tuesday Is as Available as Saturday
Retirement gives every day an unexpected amount of possibility. Tuesday is as available as Saturday. So is Wednesday. That sounds wonderful because it is wonderful. It also means the old boundaries have disappeared.
Work once gave our week its shape. Michael left in the morning and came home in the evening. Weekends were different from weekdays. Vacations had a beginning and an end. Home was where we returned to the routine waiting for us.
Now an open square on the calendar looks available until people and responsibilities claim it. A doctor appointment lands beside a school event. Weekend trips expand at both ends because we need time to prepare or recover or we change our minds and extend. A quick lunch becomes an afternoon. Laundry waits with the confidence of something that knows we will eventually surrender.
Our problem is not a lack of time. We have more freedom than we have ever had. Unclaimed time does not remain unclaimed for long. We have been treating every blank day as though it comes with unlimited hours and unlimited energy. It does not.
The Calendar Cannot Predict Everything
This year has also included the things no planner can arrange neatly. Cyclospora took me down, and recovery has been slow and unpredictable. Some days my energy returns. Other days it seems to have made plans of its own.
Travel is wonderful, but coming home requires more than carrying in the suitcases. There is laundry, restocking, reconnecting and the effort of finding our home rhythm again before the next event arrives. This summer, the grass attempted a coup every time we left, and when we returned Michael spent hours trying to control the uprising. We don’t mind any of it, but somehow it all takes longer. Before long, we are bringing out the suitcases to start again. This is a blessing, we know, but who keeps stealing our energy and taking control of our calendar?
Family life keeps moving too. The grandchildren are starting school, which puts us back on the road to concerts, recitals and other events we do not want to miss. Cousins Camp ended only recently. This alone took planning, and with a major health situation right before it started, some scrambling. An extra day was added to the front end the week of, and there we were, tucking five Littles into bed one night earlier than planned. No complaints, just an unexpected circumstance for the calendar.
Planning More Trips
As I write this, Michael is preparing for his annual two week motorcycle trip with his friend Garry. By the time he leaves, we will have checked more than once to be certain everything he needs is packed. Every trip this past year required a different packing plan, and this one is no exception. Forgetting rain gear is not just an uncomfortable situation, it could put a halt to a day’s travel.
He will ride away. I will wave, walk back into the house and discover what it feels like to be home alone again.
We have short trips, a wedding, the Caymans, North Carolina and Bonaire ahead, plus the ordinary events that become important because they belong to people we love.
We chose this and are grateful for the past and future trips. Gratitude, however, does not add hours to Tuesday or energy to us as the week progresses to Saturday.
Planning the Life Around the Trips
Travel remains one of the great pleasures of this season. We waited a long time to have this freedom, and we are already talking about 2027 and beyond. We do not want to travel less simply because our laundry room is overworked. Instead we want to travel better with more intention.
I tend to plan first and bring Michael in when the choices have narrowed. He is content to let me do it, which is convenient until I realize I am carrying the entire calendar in my head. This is not always the safest place to store a schedule, since retrieval can get complicated. I need to involve him earlier. We both need to see the travel days, the home days and the recovery days as parts of the same plan.
Planning the Time Away
On our most recent trip to Scotland, I compiled a book that taught us something about organization in travel. Every reservation, address and plan was in one place. I did not have part of the trip on my laptop while Michael had another part on his iPad. We could both see what was coming and make decisions together. The book did more than organize a trip. It gave both of us the same trip at the same time. Amazing what happens to a jet lagged temper when two people are in the know rather than the one with the locked brain.
The days between trips deserve as much care as the departures. Home cannot be the Delta lounge where we wait for the next flight. The suitcases need a break, and so do we. It is where most of our life together still happens, including the ordinary Tuesday we keep assuming will take care of itself or the Saturday the grandchildren are coming to visit.
A Little Structure Would Help
I used to think structure was the part of working life people wanted to escape. I am beginning to see that a little structure protects the life we actually want to live.
Morning coffee is one of the few habits that has stayed steady wherever we are. The deck is still our preferred location, although weather, illness and laziness sometimes move us inside. Church on Sunday when we are home gives the week a starting point. Wednesday dinner with friends at Hidden Creek Estates, or dinner with just the two of us, gives it another marker.
We also know what we want to bring back. Cribbage used to follow dinner. Lately Fox News has taken over the evening without ever being invited. We did not decide to stop playing, we simply stopped beginning. The cards and board are still nearby, waiting for one of us to turn off the television and set it up.
My quiet mornings need attention too. Before Michael retired, I had time for study, prayer and journaling after he left for work. His retirement did not make those things less important. I simply failed to give them a place in our new day. If Tuesday is as available as Saturday, I can reserve part of Tuesday and every other day instead of waiting for privacy to appear on its own.
Six Hours and a Lifetime
A recent day gave all of this a deeper edge. Michael attended the funeral of a friend and former colleague, who retired only a month before him. In October he could not attend Michael’s retirement celebration, because he and his wife were traveling. Michael was grateful they had taken that time together.
Michael and several employees from his former company left the local airport at 8:30 am, flew out for the service and then back again, returning at 2:30 pm, giving them time to talk and catch up. Michael came home thinking about how precious retirement is, and how little of it should be wasted. He also came home thinking of the wife and family his friend left behind.
A six hour trip can hold a surprising amount of time to consider a life. It can carry gratitude for the work, relief that the work is finished and sorrow that time together ended sooner than anyone expected. It made our crowded calendar feel valuable and worth handling with care.
What We Are Changing
We are not creating a rigid retirement schedule. Neither of us wants to replace a work calendar with another calendar that tells us what to do every hour. We do need enough shape to keep the things we value from being crowded out by whatever arrives first.
We want mornings that leave room for coffee and quiet. We want church, dinners with friends and evenings when cribbage gets a fair chance against the television. Michael wants to enjoy his train room and I want to return to my art studio without either of us treating separate interests as a problem. We want to plan travel together and protect the days that help us come home again.
Most of all, I want to be less upset when the day does not go as expected. I want more peacefulness and more appreciation. Life is moving faster, and I do not want to spend the gift of a day being annoyed because it arrived in the wrong order.
Figuring It Out
People often ask us how retirement is going. Our answer in January was that it was more difficult than we anticipated. Our answer now is that we are starting to figure it out. That does not mean we have discovered a perfect routine. It means we understand the questions better and that the answers don’t come easily or quickly, but we are finding some answers. The transition has not been trouble free, but the payoff is more than we anticipated.
We had prepared for Michael to leave work. We had not prepared for both of us to build a new daily life. Now we are doing that on purpose. The first year brought many firsts. I am looking forward to the seconds, when our choices have had time to become habits and the way we live begins to feel normal.
Tuesday and Saturday
Tuesday will still be as available as Saturday. We just may stop promising it to everyone before we decide what we want to do with it. Before we decide, we will check our own energy levels and determine whether to pencil in an event or pass on filling it in.
I am about to test that plan for real while Michael is on a his motorcycle trip, and I have several open days ahead of me with nothing filled in yet. He used to travel for work so often enough that his absence was part of our life. I knew how to fill the days. I missed him, of course, but I also knew the rhythm. This trip feels different. Since his retirement, being together has become our ordinary life. His being gone is now the exception. I’m not sure how I’ll spend my time, but I expect I will miss him more than I used to, which feels like good news for both of us.
