It’s hard these days for me to think of anything but retirement because it is coming soon. Every move I make seems to matter in terms of how it will impact my final departure from work.
Work. How I have dreamed of not working for so many years. Not getting up early. Not wearing clothes that look stupid. Being able to say the things I want to say and do the things I want to do. What pleasure awaits me!
I shall sleep, eat, awaken, and work when I feel like it, soon. Soon, I will determine what the events of my days and nights will be with a feeling of abandon the likes of which I will recall only from much younger days!
Autonomy! Peace! Pot! Time to write whenever I want to! Sleeping in! Such is the life of the late bloomer on a quest for freedom!
Continue reading “Retirement”
Mother and Moon
The forest that rests deep inside Victoria Park is my favorite
place in the city of Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island.
Th e stillness there unwinds my tangled thoughts. In September,
the path is laced with color, beckoning the weariest of dispositions
to take heed of the park’s aged splendor. It is the humbling power
of nature’s silence that grants its authority over my senses like the
Wise Old Woman of Sophia’s dreams. I am a visitor of minute
awareness amidst its solemn grace and unspeakable beauty. To
ponder, even briefly, to begin to take note consciously amid such
elegant simplicity is an act of dishonor. It is there for the senses
only, for the deep roots of life’s core to silence human triviality.
Th ere are many such places on a quiet island, places where nature
is salvaged. Each one is a depiction of change and growth and
death, displayed with blatant disregard for human frailty. My
walks in Victoria Park paid homage to nature itself, not to my
From “Dead Mentors” Fifth Chapter, Mother and Moon