The Retirement

My father worked at the same company for forty-three years. Same building, same desk, same routine. He never complained. He never took a sick day.\n\nWhen he retired, the company threw him a party. Speeches, a cake, a gold watch. He smiled and thanked everyone.\n\nBut on the drive home, he was quiet.\n\n"Are you okay, Dad?"\n\n"I don't know what to do with myself," he said. "I've been going to that building every day since I was twenty-two. It's all I know."\n\nThe first year of retirement was hard. He didn't know how to relax. He'd wake up at 5 AM, put on a suit, then sit in the living room with nothing to do.\n\nMy mother suggested he take up gardening. He rolled his eyes. But he tried it. And he loved it.\n\nNow, at seventy, he has a garden that would win awards. Tomatoes, peppers, roses. He spends hours outside, dirt on his hands, sun on his face.\n\n"You look happy," I told him recently.\n\n"I am," he said. "It took me sixty-five years to figure out what makes me happy. But I got there."\n\nIt's never too late to find yourself. Even at seventy, even after forty-three years at the same job. Life can surprise you.