Tag: poetry

It was supposed to be an ordinary day: August 1, my first official day of retirement. At work the previous week before I took the personal days I needed to use or lose, I had asked to simply slip out the door without a party or even a mere cupcake. I’m not one for too much celebration since I like everything to be simple, and I don’t like to be in the spotlight. On my last office day, my husband worked with my friend Janette and sister in law Bethany to arrange to bring the RV up to the parking lot so my friends could wave to me as I drove away to the open road. One week later, he’d asked me to save the evening – like he does if we have a date or something. I figured he was planning to take me to dinner, just the two of us.

I repotted plants all morning while he mowed grass and did the weed eating. And then I came inside into the air conditioned cool and cleaned out the refrigerator. I did that kind of deep cleaning that you do every two or three years where you take all the shelves and drawers out and wash them, then line all the countertops in towels and let it all air dry. Briar was in the shower, and as soon has he was done, I stepped in for my turn to clean up for the evening. I wanted him to go first so I could see what to wear without asking too many questions. Wherever we were going, we were leaving at 5:00.

I chose black pants and a black and white shirt, the sort of outfit that seems to adjust itself to the formality of any occasion. I put on my silver hoop earrings and my beaded bracelet that was a gift from Bethany when my soul Schnauzer Fitz crossed the rainbow bridge this past spring, and the pearl and silver cross necklace from my children. And then, I bottomed it all off with my black Teva TirraTraveler sandals that look like something between a fancy Sunday School shoe with a beaded ring and just as fitting for the beach or kayaking, and the shoes I would choose as my one forever shoe if I could only choose one pair henceforth. I dried my hair, put on some makeup, installed my contact lenses, grabbed my trusty Portland Leather bag, and stepped into the living room.

And there sat my brother, who’d made the trip to surprise me from five hours south. And my sister in law – – and they hugged me and led me outside to see a gift they’d made together, just for me, that was in their cooler in the back of their car. A toasted coconut cream pie. A favorite Costa Rican recipe that they had made together in their own kitchen the night before, knowing it’s my favorite.

It was that kind of moment where there was nothing else in the whole world that would have been more meaningful. Family who’d traveled in with so much else going on in their own lives, who’d stopped their world to make me a pie and bring it so we could sit around with coffee, talk, and share memories.

I was blown away that my husband had planned such a sweet retirement dinner for me. We were going to my favorite Italian restaurant two counties northwest of us, and we were on the way. And there, at a corner way in the back hidden from immediate view, were three of my colleagues I’d met the very first year I came to the county and had joined on adventures outside of work throughout the years ~ all avid readers who love to travel, see shows, and go out to eat. I’d taught their children and we shared some of the happiest and saddest times of the past 20 years of our lives together, from book club discussions to following each other’s favorite travel itineraries to being there when we’d laid loved ones to rest. Here they were to surprise me and surround me on my first day of retirement!

My brother gave a toast, and we talked of life and the living of it. We all clinked glasses and talked deep into the night, sharing our stories of how we met, how we stuck together, and how we’ve laughed along the way …over coconut cream pie and coffee. Clean refrigerator shelves and drawers lined the kitchen as we gathered in our living room after dinner. I glanced out at the freshly repotted plants on the back porch and felt a similar joy deep inside: new fresh earth, still-strong roots, and room to grow and thrive in new directions with the right watering and sunshine.

Toasting