Yesterday I published my second novel on Kindle. I've been writing novels for fun for many, many years, but never thought anyone else would read them. Publishing a novel is an event, a landmark, that I always held as a far-off, probably unattainable dream. Now I know, from my own experience, that it's another part of my process, my journey through life. Exciting, yes. But not an end-goal. Not a final break. Today, there's another book to finish.
Which makes me think: I keep expecting events and getting processes. You would think by now I would know.
Take this whole retirement thing. Even though I kind of slid in the back door, taking 2 months of medical leave that just morphed into retirement, I still thought it would be an event, a clear demarcation, a line in the sand. Instead, it's just like everything else, mushy and hard to define.
Yes, April 1 was the official date. As far as paperwork is concerned, there's the event. But as I experience this new phase of life, there are many more markers on the side of the path than large, instructional signs. And why should I have expected it to be any different?
When I was in my twenties, I visited an elderly relative, Aunt Jennie, who had long since moved to California from Iowa. I had never met her; she was my great-grandmother's sister. I was named after Aunt Jennie, my middle name being Jeanette. I remember very vividly that day, after showing us her orange tree in the yard, and playing some music for us, she perched on the edge of a wingback chair and said "I'm 85 years old!" then shook her head and added wonderingly, "How did that happen?"
Process. Life from the inside feels seamless and actually timeless. I didn't understand yet in my twenties and thirties. I thought as the body ages, everything else does, too. But now I'm 60, not old, not young, and I'm still me on the inside. I look back and remember incidents or events, but the experience of life is like a long ribbon that continues to unroll.
So here I am at a beginning and this beginning is like other beginnings ---- exciting, thought-provoking, mysterious, a little scary. I wake up every morning and I don't go to work. I have more choice about how I spend my time than I ever have before. For all my adult life, I've hoarded time, guarded it and doled it out with the feeling that it was the most precious, scarce commodity I had. And maybe it was.
Now I have time to write, to think, to read, to dream. Chores and errands are not as onerous because I still have time for the things I love. I treasure my time alone and I delight in my time with Jill. I even have time to play with the dogs.
I used to dread getting older. All I could see was the encroaching darkness, the end in sight. But now that I'm arriving, I find I have more than I ever imagined. I've heard more birds, taken more walks, read more books, and lost myself in creativity more than I allowed myself in the past.
And I still write novels for fun.
You are an awesome woman!
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