I’ve been feeling a small anxiety associated with pending retirement. After so many years of thinking about the same big things, I’ve wondered what I’d do with all my time. Will I be depressed? Bored? Right now I’m practicing retirement on a six-week vacation just before my last 12 days of work, and, for all of you who’ve wondered, here’s how it goes.
By 932 AM this morning, I’d listened to the entire podcast of Terry Gross interviewing country singer Rodney Crowell about his new memoir on Fresh Air ; had a cup of coffee with my beloved baby brother, Pat, who’d miraculously spent two days with me before he drove to Phoenix to catch the plane home; stood in the back yard to take photos of rose-colored clouds that nestled on the mountain tops as the sun rose in the east and the full golden moon set in the west; listened to doves, a cardinal and a woodpecker; spotted bunnies with orange ears chomping grass on the golf green; taken Roxy for a 1.2 mile walk (the remnants of a technical career live in my iPhone GPS); enjoyed Greek yogurt and fresh blueberries at my new round dining room table; discovered that the high ceiling in my living room holds great acoustics when I sing “I Know Love is All I Need” along with Rodney; sang as loud as I wanted because I didn't have to worry about bothering the neighbors in a condo; cried a little because those cowboy lyrics told the story of the love I feel for my brother and my whole family, how lucky I am to share life with wonderful friends, the death of my parents, passing of my childhood and life in general; practiced hula dancing (I took my first lesson last week) and put a load of towels and sheets in the washer. There was time for all this before 932 AM.
It’s evening now, and the dark clouds that have been swooping by in the bluster all day are stacking up on the west side of the Catalina’s. The air smells rich and pregnant with possibility. And I wonder where the day went. 
Time, time, time. So far, what’s different about retirement is having the time to consider the love of family and friends, to breath in the softness of pink clouds and sunrise, to smile at bird songs in cactus and bunnies on the green, to sing along with country songs, and smell the promise of rain in the desert. If that’s all it is, then I think that will be good enough to keep me busy for a long time.
Tomorrow, I just might look for a used guitar on Craigslist so that next time Pat visits, we can sing together. Music was a big in our family because we were part of the pre-TV generation. It's also one of the things that I haven't had much time for in the past 25 years. Now I have time to practice up.
Time, time. Time slowed and stretched to encompass family and friends, memories and dreams, learning to hula (ha!) Time to think slowly. It feels like time for everything.
The cycle of pink skies and moonbeams in the morning, followed by dark clouds and wind at night, reminds me that life just keeps changing. As Rodney says in his song, change happens to us all. "Just like the sun will rise, the night will fall." But that also means that even in the desert, there is always the possibility of rain.
Love is all we need. And as brother Pat is so fond of saying, "It's all good, sister, it's all good."
