One Month Later

August 19, 2008
Beach Rose CG
Salisbury.MA

What do you know, I am actually enjoying myself. Sleeping in a comfortable bed, sleeping until I decide to wake up. Taking my time and having a leisurely cup of coffee in the morning. Reading a book in the afternoon. Watching a movie at night. And in between all these activities, doing something strenuous, like eating, drinking, and every so often, snacking. This is not a bad life. Okay, it’s a terrible life and if I’m not careful I could easily gain 20 pounds.

But I did go kayaking yesterday. For 20 minutes. And the day before, I rode my bike. For 10 minutes. That’s a half-hour of exercise. Isn’t that what the experts recommend?

The point is, I was so sure retirement – not to mention an RV adventure – would be a complete snore and would drive me absolutely bonkers in no time at all. I was so sure, in fact, that I erected the Alamo of Refusal in my mind and defended it with every bit of artillery I had for over three years.

But I have to hand it to my Taurus husband. Stubborn is as stubborn does, and he is as obdurate as they come. He was determined to yank me out of my comfortable chaos of a life and subject me to miles and miles of nature, adventure and possibilities.

I would still be in our overpriced, overtaxed house, commuting three hours every day in bumper-to-bumper traffic, to work in one of the most tension-ridden businesses there is, advertising, with little-to-no reward, all for the comfort of its sameness and predictability.

Fortunately, I have great friends, and they gave me some great advice while I was in the thick of the battle. Joyce, who said, “So you’ve already decorated that house. Decorate something else.” Now that I could relate to.

I happen to be married to a man who thinks two sets of dishes is one too many, but I am a card-carrying regular at Home Goods, the store that convinces you that at these prices you should have seven of everything. So the idea of taking on another project touched me at my core. Men may live to conquer, but I’m hard-wired to decorate. My forebears’ caves probably had Ralph Lauren paint with charming little hieroglyphs here and there.

Then there is Terri, who took me in when I was about to collapse with grief over the fact that I had successfully sold my house for more than its asking price. “You still have choices,” she told me. “You will buy something else. You have a right to be happy too.” I was homeless, but not futureless. I needed that weekend. And I needed that pasta. Among her other great qualities, Terri is a mean cook. And I mean that in a good way.

Now Carole and I have been friends since we were three years old and took pre-nursery school dance lessonss together. We still sing "I'm a Little Teapot" on request. Carole retired to Florida a couple of years ago and is now the most popular girl in the state. No surprise here, since she was voted Most Popular when we graduated high school too. You just don't meet people with her kind of positive energy every day. And she sure channeled some my way during all of this. 'Honey," she'd say, and you have to love that friend that calls you honey, "Honey, you have to do this. You have no idea how much fun this will be. I've never been happier in my life. " And for Carole to be happier than she normally is, then retirement has to be akin to winning the NYS Lottery when it's at its all-time high.

But if I needed balance, and I certainly can use balance, I could always turn to Maggie, who is not only my rock and my sounding board, she is also my real estate agent and the voice of reason no matter the situation. “Get over it,” was her basic message. “They want the house. They paid a great price. You can live anywhere. I will not abandon you as a friend.” What she didn’t say was, “You can live over my garage,” but I suspect if I asked, she’d say yes.

It happens, too, that I have a great family, the Bickersons. Oh no, that’s not their name. What am I thinking? I have two brothers and two sisters and three incredible in-laws, who I often forget are related by marriage and not blood. No matter, they are all there when I need them, and that’s a wonderful thing. Each gave me an ear, a plan and a strategy for accepting this new turn in my life’s highway, and I am more than grateful.

So here I am, more than a month later, settled in to this nomadic lifestyle, for the time being at least, and happy to have made this decision. Finally. Of course, if I had my way, I’d get rid of the tacky etched mirrors and the multi-color valances over the windows. And I’d like to get a new set of dishes to replace the ones that fell out of the cabinet last month. But we’re nowhere near a Home Goods at the moment.

Not to worry. There’s always tomorrow. And there’s always a mall just up the road.
Betty