A Sudden Knowledge of Self

Tonight the hubby and I ventured out into the bitter, blowing winds to a class held at the local high school. The blurb written up in the Adult School brochure promised us a wealth of information about retirement, Medicare, Social Security and other white or gray-haired nuggets needed for the "golden years." It did not deliver. The classroom was overheated, which could have been a blessing except the presenters were less than stellar, so nodding off began to look like a comfortable alternative to listening to them. But I, being me, began to observe the others in the room.

There was a woman with a largish bandage on her brow, a guy with a baseball hat pulled down to his wire framed glasses, a portly couple both wearing matching flannel shirts. In one corner of the room I spied a woman whose children attended nursery school with my oldest. Wow! I hadn't seen her in years! And in another corner of the room was a woman who used to live down the street from us. She still looked the same. And after the class when we hugged, she said I looked the same, too.

And I got to thinking...retirement, growing older...usually means moving out of the family home you've occupied for a number of years. I frequently lament to hubby that our house is too big! I can't keep it clean anymore. I have other things I like to do with my time. Well, if I'm honest, I've always had other things I've wanted to do besides clean; but it seems more of an onerous task these days. And then I truly thought tonight about what it would mean to leave the bubble. There are people who are part of the scenery of our lives here. The old man and old lady who have walked a sucession of dogs through rain, sleet, snow and hurricanes. The guy with the gray ponytail who wears a trench coat in the dead of summer and frequently speaks out loud to himself. And all those parents of all those kids whom I have talked, laughed and cried with as their children marched through elementary then high school. I will see kids returned from college who remember me at the local grocery store, parents who still remember my own kids and ask after them. Some police officers I have known through their community projects for years! When we leave the bubble they will probably still be here, but I wouldn't see them any more. The scenery will be different. I will not have the points of reference I had. It made me somewhat anxious and sad. And made me realize that I am not ready to move yet, no matter how I nudge the hubby. I think we're content for now. But I still hate to clean.