The realization that 60 is now real hit me at a party this weekend when a fellow high school graduate confessed the 61 and the mental impossibility of it all. I agreed. Where did the years go? When did the kids become adults and why didn't I pay more attention?
As soul mates for four hours, we discussed our high school years and the foibles of those times. We discussed long lost friends, who died too young, and before we got to say hello again. I think we cried a tear or two while the party revelers were doing their things.
Discussion turned to retirement homes, and I felt pangs of jealousy as she described their retirement home being built for now and later enjoyment. I got to thinking about where I want to be during the retirement years. I know a lot of places where I don't want to spend my golden years, but to be honest, I really haven't found "the golden place." I think I know what I want, but as my history of houses would prove, I always end up changing my mind.
I have almost decided that life will guide us to our last home. I understand why my friend has chosen her spot. Her kids and grandchildren are there. I have several friends who have retired closer to their kids. Our motivation will probably be similar. It just isn't happening now. We have become city folk and enjoy all that is available or just thirty minutes away.
As I finished decking the halls for Christmas once again, I really had to push my mind to just do it. One son lives out of state for this holiday, and we will spend Christmas day with the other at his home. Friends drop by and the atmosphere is pleasant, but it is our conversation and sharing that is important to us. I imagine that God has a great place in mind for Richard and me, but as of today it is right where we are, and I am thankful for all his blessings.
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