"I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

A random quote like that, out of the blue, would usually indicate the signs of early onset dementia. However, after 28 years of marriage I actually knew what my wife was talking about....  a reference to a previous conversation. 

It happens a lot.  "It's aged oak," while picking out a cheese at the grocery store, or “Tomorrow” after a ten-minute lull in the conversation, and I know exactly where her brain is.

(Of note, one recent occurrence when I had no idea what she was talking about was when she snapped at me for no apparent reason, saying, "You weren't even listening just now, were you?!"   I thought, "What an odd way of starting a conversation.")

My answer to her "I'm-never-going-to-see-you-again" question is "No," and I'm thinking I'll drop my answer randomly into a completely different conversation, in the middle of dinner, perhaps. Something like, Me:  "That was a really great meal."  
Heather:  "Sure was."   
Two minutes later, me:  "No, I don't think you will."

I retired the first week in January, and a while ago I started dropping hints that I'd like to take a lengthy bike trip lasting "a couple of months." After I let that percolate for a few weeks, I changed it to "three or four months," and got a raised eyebrow with the accompanying response, "I believe you said two months." "Emmmm.... No?  I'm pretty sure I said three months," and looked at her like she did indeed have early onset dementia. (The term you're looking for is "gaslighting.")  I said it with the utmost confidence, which, of course, helped her to realize that I'm completely full of shit. Unfortunately, we both know that between the two of us, I'm the much more likely candidate for having dementia. She remembers everything.

Last month, we were with some friends talking about my next trip and I casually tossed out, "Yeah, I'm thinking it'll be 4-5 months." The friends angle worked, and received no immediate response from her. 

Until yesterday, when she asked, "I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

The wonderful thing (of which there are many) about Heather is that she understands and supports my need to tour. I had been doing it for more than a decade before we met, so she knew from the outset that bike touring is part of the Mark Package. 

Rereading that, I should probably call it something else.

<><><><><><>

My "midlife crisis" is possibly the only thing that could entice me to quit the job I love so much. And can it be a "midlife crisis" when you're 66? By definition, no.

Anyway, here's the thing: 

When you're young, you have plenty of time and you're healthy, but have no money. Then your working career begins so you have plenty of money and you're healthy, but no time. After that comes the phase of life in which you have plenty of time (retired) and enough money because you spent all of those years working, but your health is failing. It doesn't even matter how well you take care of yourself; our bodies eventually betray us. 

That means that if I retire right now, I figure I have about a ten-year window, maybe more, maybe less, in which to take advantage of having all three.  I'm pretty sure it was Jacquie Gaudet who eloquently phrased it "The trifecta of time, money, and health."

My mortality approaches one inevitable step at a time. Slowly, I hope, but it will eventually arrive on my doorstep.

So, I'm going on a trip. Then I'm going on another one, then another, until my window closes and I sit in front of a fireplace with a blanket across my lap saying things in the gravelly, wheezy voice of an nonagenerian, like, "That reminds me of the time I was in a treehouse and sewed up my ankle."

I hope you can join me.

Heart

2

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply