Ft. Lauderdale
I don’t remember where I first heard it, but I do recall it was with Coleen. We were on vacation somewhere and we read a quote that said “In the mountains, we forget to count the days.” Well I am going to modify that to read “In Ft. Lauderdale, I forget to count the days.”I am at day six of my seven day stay here and it is like no vacation I have ever taken. I am alone with no schedule, no deadlines, no car, no showtimes to catch, nothing to be late for. I have all day to do nothing and I am getting pretty good at managing all my time.
Exactly one week after Coleen’s death, I was encouraged to take a month and just go hang out on a beach somewhere by myself. At the time I thought it was a nice idea but didn’t take it seriously. Even though the person doing the encouraging was Coleen. More about that later.
At that time I was about four days away from returning to work and felt a responsibility to do just that. My employers had been very kind and understanding during Coleen’s sickness and I did not want to take advantage of the situation. I also thought the length of time was a little too long. I mean what was I going to do for a whole month by myself? That’s a lot of books and a lot of sand.
I returned to work on schedule and somehow managed to drag myself through most of that week. All the time thinking, though, what am I doing here? What do I really want and need? I knew that I didn’t want that job any longer. The stress and tension it caused me had already taken a toll and I felt much too fragile to continue to deflect it away. Rebecca encouraged me to think about myself first, what I wanted. My daughters did the same.
I invited my practical side into the discussion and started playing with numbers and figures. Or as the song goes, “I was just guessing, numbers and figures, tearing her puzzles apart.” I prepared a budget based on me with little or no income. With me quitting my job and going into retirement mode. It looked like it would work but I was thinking maybe I was missing something. I mean, how could it be possible that I could quit working at 60? I met with Kent, my financial adviser and he agreed, “Rob, it looks like you thought of everything. You might have to cut some corners but this can work for you.”
Cut some corners to stop working? I was ready to make that deal. I talked to my bosses and told them of my decision. I was sorry to be leaving them so suddenly but I had to what was right for me and working for them wasn’t it. Two weeks later I walked out the door there for the last time.
During those two weeks, several things happened resulting in me being in Florida. Probably the most significant of those was when my daughter Lindsay and son in law Mike arranged a timeshare trade for a week they were not able to use. They found a beautiful ocean view condo in Ft Lauderdale where I am staying, and booked it almost before I could say “yes, please.” I had accumulated many free Southwest Air miles and found direct flights. And I received more counseling and reiki from Rebecca and she thought it would be a great opportunity for me to be alone and nurture my healing. She was right, everybody was right, including me and Coleen.
Now here I am on my balcony, shirtless, ocean breezes messing my hair and helping me heal. I am doing something I have always loved and wanted to do. This morning I woke up with an old Harry Chapin song in my head. It’s called “Taxi” and in it he sings “She was going to be an actress and I was going to learn to fly…” but for me, I was going to learn to write. Feels like I’m finally getting that chance.
My biggest daily decisions down here are what time (or times) should I go to the beach and where should I have dinner. And the easiest question to answer is when can I make time to write? All day, every day, wherever I am, whoever is around. I have many random thoughts and ideas for articles and I try to write them all down so I can work on them later but some have gotten away from me. That does not worry me though because I’m certain they will return when it is time. Sometimes I feel guilty because I want to spend time writing and think I should be on the beach vacationing with my Stephen King novel and a cold Heineken. But the writing part is so much fun for me I feel like I’m on vacation anyway. It certainly doesn’t feel like work. So I compromise and take my journal and pen with me wherever I go. And a cold Heineken.
I recall listening to a live recording of singer/songwriter Neil Young from sometime in the early 70’s during an especially prolific songwriting period for him. While introducing his next song, which he had just written,he said, “I’ve had so many songs come to me lately, I don’t know what else to do except sing them.”
I’ve had so many thoughts and things to say, I don’t know either. So for now, I just write them down and keep them safe.
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