Retirement is not all that

 

Waiting for God, Not the Bus: Reflections on Retirement and the Longing for More

The sun paints warm stripes across the living room floor, where dust motes dance in the golden beams. Another morning in Paradise Palms, retirement enclave extraordinaire. You'd think paradise wouldn't include such a persistent ache of loneliness, wouldn't it? But here I am, a castaway on an island of leisure, surrounded by manicured lawns and pastel villas, yet feeling more adrift than ever.

Retirement – I dreamed of it for decades. No more alarm clocks, no more fluorescent-lit cubicles, just endless days to paint, write, travel… But the endlessness has become its own cage. My paintbrush gathers dust, my novel manuscript taunts me from the blank screen, and the furthest I travel is the supermarket in my golf cart.

They call this place Paradise Palms, but it feels more like Purgatory Acres. Days stretch like unmade beds, each one a blank canvas of boredom. I watch the shuffleboard tournaments and gossip chains from my porch swing, a silent observer in my own life. It's like I'm waiting for something – anything – to jolt me out of this beige existence.

Maybe it's a sign from above. You know, a literal burning bush or a voice booming from the sky, à la Charlton Heston. But all I hear is the chirping of the overly-caffeinated cardinals and the drone of lawnmowers serenading the manicured green.

I named my blog "Waiting for God," not in the religious sense, mind you. More like waiting for Godot, that play about two tramps eternally waiting for someone who never comes. Except I'm not waiting for a person, but for purpose. A spark, a flicker of inspiration to ignite this smoldering life.

Is this what they call the retirement blues? Or is it something deeper, a gnawing fear that I've already peaked, that the best parts of my life are behind me? I used to be a whirlwind of deadlines and projects, a force of nature in my corner office. Now I'm a whisper in a chorus of shuffling slippers.

But maybe, just maybe, this emptiness is fertile ground. Maybe this waiting is not in vain, but a fallow field waiting for new seeds to be sown. Maybe retirement isn't the end, but a blank page, a chance to rewrite my story.

So I'll keep watching the sunrise, waiting for whatever comes next. Perhaps God won't appear in a blaze of glory, but in a quiet whisper or a gentle nudge. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find the courage to take that nudge and run with it. Because even in Paradise Palms, even in the waiting, there's always room for a new adventure.

Who knows, maybe one day I'll have another blog post to write, this time titled "Paradise Found. Finally." Until then, I'll keep waiting, keep hoping, and keep reminding myself that sometimes, the most beautiful sunrises happen after the longest nights.

What are your thoughts on retirement? Have you faced challenges with boredom or a lack of purpose? Share your stories in the comments below!