Fugit Irreparabile Tempus

... whether or not you're having fun.

On June 24 2013, I was treated to a nice lunch at one of my favorite restaurants with a few people from my workgroup.  After lunch, I went back to the cubicle, took one last walk around the facility, chatted with a few people, then turned in my laptop and security card and walked out the door for the last time after thirty-two years of daily cubicle attendance in the same location. That was a moment I had been contemplating, planning for, and eagerly anticipating. Yet, having arrived at that moment, I realized that contemplating a thing is not the same as experiencing it.  A phrase from an Emily Dickinsom poem played in my mind: 

"For heaven is a different thing

Conjectured, and waked sudden in,

And might o'erwhelm me so!"

As I walked to my car, the realization of what I was doing at that moment swelled in my mind. I was closing the door on thirty-two years of time that had irretrievably passed; thirty-two years of stable employment with a middle-class salary and benefits; thirty two years of professional development and continuing education; thirty two years of life experiences, raising a family, growing older. A lump formed in my throat, and I was overcome by a a wave of nostalgia as I faced the fact that so much of my life was now behind me.

A warm, bittersweet feeling rose in my chest, tinged with anxiety about the future, but without any feeling of regret. I had looked forward to this moment with great expectation and had spent hours dreaming and planning and looking forward to it.  Now it was time to move forward and embrace the fall season of life.

Now, six weeks later, I can report on how it's going so far. So far, so good. No big surprises or disappointments at this point. The time has passed quickly, it seems. I'm enjoying the freedom to take life more at my own pace, and I haven't yet felt like I need something more to do to fill my days.

Healthwise, I've completed a 22 session cardiac rehabilitation therapy program, and have settled in to a daily exercise routine. I've grown accustomed to my new vegan no oil diet, and am back to doing all the normal physical activities that I was engaging in BHA (before heart attack).

My wife and I are continuing our French language courses, and we spend considerable time together studying.  We are also taking a free online course from www.coursera.com called "The Science of Gastronomy".  

I also have a new occupation as a financial manager, caring for a small portfolio of investments that is now our livelihood. I'm not really qualified to do this, but I'm too cheap to pay a professional fee to someone else for doing it. My wife helps out a lot with this.  Before retiring, she did a series of prototype budgets which we did test runs on and refined them to get something we were confident would work for us.  Now is the first real "production run" of our plans. It will be an adventure to see if it works out - too early to know at this point.

Part of each day is dedicated to vegetable gardening.  Gardening has always been one of my main hobbies, and it's nice to have more time to dedicate to that pursuit.  I was given new gardening uniform as a retirement gift: a pair of denim overalls and a big straw hat. I wear a bright red and white Hawaiian shirt with it. It's my new daily work uniform, and I've discovered that it hardly ever needs to be washed... just hang it up on a nail to air out overnight, and it's ready to wear again the next day!

I spend considerable time planning meals and cooking, incorporating garden produce wherever possible.  Everyone who eats here is subjected to the vegan experience. My wife endures it stoically, even saying that she likes it at times. However, relatives who have come to visit for a few days have left complaining of too many beans and uncontrollable flatulence. I tell them that they're welcome here anytime :-)

We have a new granddaughter who was born on August 14, and another grandchild due to arrive sometime in November. So, as it turns out, there is life after the cubicle.

I'd like to sign up for another twenty years or so of this kind of living, but I don't know who to ask, or where to subscribe, so I guess I'll just take it a day at a time and embrace what each day brings.