It’s grey and gloomy today. If I were working, I would be
grey and gloomy. In my work experience, especially working for the federal
government, which is stingy with windows, daylight was of paramount importance.
Deskbound for years, I craved light. On weekends, I would
find every reason to be outdoors. Our porch,
even in winter, functioned as another room. If I met a friend at a restaurant, I
raced to claim the chair facing the window.
I always felt like a plant leaning toward the light. Now, I am upright.
I take the seat that makes sense.
Our new house is filled with windows. Life-affirming light
surrounds me. Sunset: no problem. My new
hobby is acquiring lamps: floor lamps,
desk lamps, lamps for our daughters’ colleges, lamps with birds on their bases or
translucent leaves on their shades, and more. The illumination possibilities
are endless.
Earlier this week, my new friend took me to a local lamp
sale, bringing even more light to my life.
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| Photo courtesy of Ikea |
Best yet for this retired person, there’s no timetable for
when I can be in or out. I enjoy the same freedom as our dog. Once she figured out how to use her new dog
door, going out, coming back in, going back out, offered Piper her own endless
possibilities.
Yet, I realize there must be more to retirement than light
and a lightened load. What about reflecting amongst all this light?
That, too, is coming. Reflection sneaks in at unexpected
moments when I question my new role, identity, and how I can contribute. For
now, as we approach the shortest day of the year, I know this: Daylight, lamplight, and the warmth of new
friends are good. They make me happy.
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