It has been six years since Bob and I left our jobs in Los Angeles and headed for a new home in rural Arizona. Thinking back from the early days of our transition to the present, these are the realizations that have dawned as we've settled in.
1. Life is more expensive than we imagined. In past year, we have had to replace several appliances as well as the entire air conditioning/heating system in our six year old house. We thought by buying a new house, we would escape major repairs and replacements, at least for a long time. Surprise. And then there are unreimbursed medical expenses. Did you know that hearing aids can cost thousands of dollars and aren't covered by insurance? We didn't either.
2. We're realizing, with new clarity, that good eating and fitness habits may postpone health problems, but don't prevent them indefinitely. In the past year, we've seen a number of friends and neighbors suffer health catastrophes and several have died.
Perhaps the most jarring event was the our friend Theo's stroke. It was a total shock. Theo was the community superman. He rode his bicycle 30 miles a day through the desert, swam laps like a champ, danced wonderfully and tirelessly (tap and ballroom were his specialties) and was Bob's star pupil in learning to play the guitar.
After his stroke a few months ago, Theo was initially partially paralyzed, spoke with slurred speech and lost his hearing on one side. When Bob visited him at the hospital, however, Theo was already astounding nurses by walking slowly but steadily down the hall, holding his walker over his head. Within a few weeks, his speech became clear again. Now he takes daily walks through the community.
But life will never be the same. His hearing loss has persisted and has ended his bike riding (because he can't hear cars coming up behind him). He walks cautiously instead of dashing through his days. He feels newly vulnerable and has agreed to his family's pleas to move to Florida to be closer to his sisters. He says he realizes that he can no longer live alone. Bob and I listen with sadness, with empathy and with a sense of foreboding. If this can happen to Theo, it could happen to anyone.
3. New pleasures have replaced the old dreams. We smile thinking of those pre-retirement dreams: the non-stop socializing, participating in community activities, exercising the freedom to stay up half the night reading a good novel and sleeping well into the next morning. Settling in here, we've realized that we're not as social as we thought, that most community activities aren't of great interest, and that our bodies don't do well these days with all nighters or fluctuating sleep patterns. We do the best with routines -- and having four cats who want breakfast by 5 a.m. keeps us in our "early to rise" mode. We've found that extending the day by getting up early feels better than being night owls. And our greatest pleasures these days come from small treats, good conversations and times shared, like our twice a month trips to three local libraries, occasionally stopping for an ice cream cone in rustic downtown Florence.
4. There are fewer expectations of others. We no longer expect to make a bunch of close friends. We're also less likely to extend the promise of friendship based on proximity and little else. We keep saying "Life is too short" and stepping back. When we do encounter a kindred spirit, it's a lovely surprise.
5. We're learning to take growing limitations in stride. Aging gathers momentum in one's seventies and beyond. There are so many things can no longer do. Arthritis precludes my dreams of resuming classes in tap and ballet, but I've rediscovered great joy in swimming. Bob can no longer run as he used to only a few years ago, but he takes a three mile walk to and from the local Starbucks every morning.
The extreme heat of Arizona summers no longer has quite the allure for Bob that it did when we first arrived. He tires more easily. But we have no plans to move. We love our house and will simply spend more time inside or in the community pool this summer.
So far, for us, the limitations of age are minor if fairly relentless. We're seeing those around us having serious, life-changing and life-threatening conditions. While we're definitely feeling much more mortal than we did six years ago, we're very grateful to still be in reasonably good health.
6. We are thinning our "Must Do" lists. We no longer have the desire to do the traveling we once imagined. Part of this is lagging energy and part is the hassle that travel has become. We used to dream about taking a "Band of Brothers" tour of Europe, but we recently tossed the brochures as the allure of this waned due to the expense, the changing nature of Europe and the fact that the World War II veterans and those with first hand experience of the major events -- people who made these tours so fascinating -- are quickly disappearing. It's harder these days to leave our cherished cats for too long -- and we find incredible pleasure just hanging out with them at home.
7. We're also looking to lighten the weight of our possessions instead of continuing to acquire. Having already experienced the stress of cleaning out my parents' home and Aunt Molly's home after their deaths, we've vowed to leave less behind. That means thinning the closet with trips to Goodwill and Vietnam Veterans of America and donating books to local libraries. It means giving family heirlooms to younger family members now instead of later.
8. We live more in the present since the future is increasingly unknowable and uncertain. We are not planning pleasures too far into the future, but looking to either let go of them or experience them sooner rather than later. We realize, with new clarity, that there may be a time when we're not able to drive long distances to see friends or to take road trips. There will certainly be a time when I can no longer run into the surf with family and swim for hours. So we have a new mantra: "Do it now!" It can apply to a trip to the beach or to calling a friend or to writing a letter to someone dear. We no longer feel we have the luxury of procrastination.
9. We're realizing that retirement is very individual experience. Some people live to golf and then come home to watch golf for hours on t.v. Some find their days seeming longer and play cards "just to kill the time." And even when both people in a relationship value their time and experiences, both individually and together, their needs may be quite different as the retirement years progress.
Bob embraces and enjoys every moment of these days and months and years -- learning, growing, savoring this blessed free time. He plays music on his guitar, does crosswords, reads a wide variety of books, takes online courses, watches at least one movie daily, takes a long walk each morning and socializes briefly but with great pleasure at our local Starbucks.
On the other hand, I'm finding, somewhat to my surprise, that traditional retirement doesn't agree with me -- at least at the moment. Instead, I'm mixing work in with my newfound leisure, and am back to writing full-time. I have a new agent, new website, have a book coming out this August and just sold another one to a publisher who plans to bring it out next year.
But my peak earning years as a writer are just memories. Publishing has changed dramatically in recent years regarding the ways authors are compensated. I may never again have the earning power I had at 35 or 40. But I'm finding more pleasure, less stress, in a writing career that isn't my sole source of income. And I know that there will come a time when I want and actively choose to let go, step back and relax. But not yet. Not just yet.
10. We've never stopped being grateful. Now that the frantic work life that we left behind is so far in the past, we have the distance to grieve what we valued about it and celebrate what we were able to escape.
Bob doesn't miss his old office, in a grimy industrial area of downtown L.A. for a minute, but he does get wistful when he remembers the pleasure of helping a customer with a complicated pumping systems problem and the joy of living up to his title of "The Pump God."
I think of my former psychotherapy patients with affection and wonder how they're doing, remembering what a pleasure it was to work with them. But I don't miss the stress of those last 20 years in Los Angeles when I juggled three jobs and drove thousands of miles on traffic-jammed L.A. freeways. From this vantage point, I wonder how I ever did it for so long.
Settling in to our life now means it all isn't quite so new. Despite realizing the dream of retirement, life happens in a variety of familiar ways -- like dental emergencies, appliances breaking, beloved pets dying. health crises -- in these so-called golden years.
Nevertheless, the freedom to wake up with the sun, to structure one's days, to learn new skills, to pursue dreams, both old and new, make these years incredibly blessed. We're grateful for every day.