There are lots of changes in your life when you semi-retire. Your whole world shifts from work to home. Your focus goes from your waking hours defined by your to-do list to your work learning to coexist with the rest of your life. It’s a glorious thing and for a long time, retiring to four days a week was really good. Not only did I have Fridays off, but I was saving myself an hour and a half everyday between commuting time and “get ready” time. The upshot? Being 80% time was really like working 60% of the time I used to.
These days, 80% time has felt like more and more and if I’m honest, I think within the next few years I’ll do less, more likely down to 3.5 days a week. Doesn’t seem like much overall, but just that half-day would make a huge difference. Each week, I would work as much as I have off. But, we want to finish renovations first and I have to figure out the process of health insurance to make this truly happen. Still, for now and the foreseeable future, I’m at four days a week. That, it appears, is enough for now.
Yet, one of the things I love the most now is when I get up and its sunny. Today was one of those days. The sun is already fading and its beginning to cloud over for another gray winter day. But when I first woke up? The sun was shining gloriously through the bare trees onto the little bit of snow cover we have. Because that snow cover has had a chance to crust over with a little of the freeze-thaw cycle, it simply glistened in the sun.
Morning sun creates such a sense of both calm and promise. The morning sun when the world around me is just waking up is like a lazy good morning. Like the happy sweet greetings of my kitties who want a little love and attention first thing, the morning sun is simply a happy hello. It also fills the day with promise. As I sit here, I am mindful that this day is the next 24 hours of my life. It’s 24 hours I’ll never get again and yet it stretches out before me. Instead of dreading that it’s Monday, I have the opportunity to celebrate a day in my life. Yes, there is the mundane. I need to get six hours of billing in and I’ve got clients waiting for at least that amount of work from me. Dinner still needs to be planned and made. One kitty still needs medicine and both kitties still need mentoring. There are dishes to do, beds to be made, calls to be returned and schedules to be built.
But, it’s still a day with promise. I know I will laugh at least once today. Whether it be at something silly my kitties do or some funny exchange with my husband. I know I will plan at least once today for my trip to Florida. If the sun returns, I plan a very cold walk in the snow. If it doesn’t, a walk on the treadmill with a full spectrum bulb is in order. I will likely – because it’s how I roll – speak with my sisters today. But most of all, I will embrace today and just be simply happy.
When my sister was ill, I had to face my fear of fear. All of my life, I had waited for the other shoe to drop. When there were good times, I couldn’t quite relax because I was afraid they would go away. When there were bad times, I was almost relieved because my mind could anticipate the scope of the bad and adjust my expectations accordingly. But when she was recovered, I faced that I could live with a cloud over my head – always fearing the next bad moment – or I could embrace the happy. If I embraced the happy, I knew I would be better positioned for the bad. That when something bad happened again (and not necessarily her), I would respond better because I was more emotionally healthy instead of exhausted from fear. It has been one of the four or five transformative moments of my life and ranks up there with simple peace and the promise I made to God that I would love whatever pieces of Darryl were left after the crash as long as He helped Darryl to survive.
And today, I got the chance to live that moment again. That moment of pure, clear and unadultered vision that life is really meant to be lived, not obligated and that joy is as simple as sunlight passing through a window. My workday starts now, but it starts from a happier, healthier place.
Morning has broken.
The Yuppie Homesteader 