My hands grip the steering wheel, my throat is tight, and a single tear forms and falls from the corner of my eye. I don’t wipe it away, but allow it to meander down my cheek as testimony to what has hurt me. I stop at a red light, and as I’m waiting I notice
It’s the first Monday in June, the sixth since I transitioned to retirement re-imagined. Seven years ago on this day, jarred awake by an alarm before dawn, my mind on the day’s work before my feet hit the floor, I was running and getting ready to head out on the interstate to my corporate office. This
We live on a ridge with an unobstructed view across the valley to the hills on the other side. That view is the first thing I set my eyes upon every morning. Sometimes I get lost in it. From where I sit, sipping soy milky frothy coffee in the comfort of our sleigh bed, I
It’s hot—almost, but not quite, Kamloops summer hot. The temperature gauge in the car reads 34 Celsius (that’s 93 Fahrenheit) when I’m on the way home. I put the groceries away and water my flowers, then gather a book and my glasses and head out to the deck. A bear in the yard shakes things
I’m standing outside in the backyard watering the herb garden with a spray nozzle on the hose. I know. It’s not the most effective way of watering. Master gardeners advise drip irrigation, and my husband touts the benefit of a gentle sprinkler, but I prefer the meditative gift of standing with a hose. Watering and
I accompany Gerry to an appointment where the practitioner is personable and good-natured, and she appears to love her work. Her manner is one of the brightest points of my day. In contrast, the flag people on the road they’re tearing up for the second time in as many years are a surly, cranky crew.
It’s become a daily thing—sometimes more than once a day. I haven’t come close to mastering it, and I lose most of the time, but playing chess is a great way to keep our aging brain cells limber. It’s strategic, quiet, and, in my case, a mountain to be conquered. I start the game with a