August 20, 2025

day 230

not as I imagined it

retirement in the time of a revolution 
is not at all what we were sold 
when life was simpler 
and families lived closer,
when socializing meant
sitting on your front porch chatting 
with the neighbors across the way 
while our kids played ‘mother may I’ 
and ‘Simon says’ in the street
until the sun set, fireflies flickered, 
and the street lights came on

the retirement I imagined
was filled light streaming in at dawn
coffee brewing…or tea steeping,
the smell of browned toast, 
the mellow, sweet tang of butter 
and homemade jam on my tongue, 
sitting for a spell to take it all in, 
to read a little, to write a little,
with time enough for a walk before lunch.
soup…maybe a light salad or a sandwich
on fresh slices of homemade bread
followed by a lovely afternoon nap, 
with the windows open, a cool breeze
softly tossing sheer lace curtains 
while my old cat purrs nearby… 

retirement in the time of a revolution
requires one to draw from the deep well
of experience, to revisit the idealism 
and bravery of youth, to rise early, 
to stand, to be counted, to give voice
to the truth, in poetry, on posters, 
in letters to editors who still have souls, 
to leaders who still have spines,
to be a gentle voice to the young 
to be kind to the oppressed and needy,
to be a safe place for those who
need a place to land, to hide, to rest

I’m not sure I would have survived
my imaginary, fantastical retirement plans 
I’m sure I would have become a bored, 
grumpy, old lady hiding behind drawn shades…

what a surprise to retire during the time
of the great lie, fired up and charged 
with protecting the truth, keeping it alive, 
shining a light to show others the way home