My boss told me the other day that we are in the final quarter of our career, the two-minute warning is closer than we think. I feel that squirrel urgency to finish strong before the frost sets in.
I joke that I’m prepared for about eleven minutes of retirement.
Beyond that? No clue!
Sometimes, I tell myself that I just need to get Hazel to eighteen, then I can move back to Edgewater, the first neighborhood I ever knew. There is something full circle about living and dying on the same block. Near the same parish. The one I was baptized at will be perfect for my funeral. The same sun rising and setting over a different version of me.
I’ve been lucky.
I saw the golden age of commodity trading. The screaming in the pit, flailing arms, drowned in the cacophony of buying and selling. Now it is all clicking and pointing a mouse at the screen.
Quieter, but still a daily fight. I never imagined doing anything else. I still remember walking home from the Ridgeland CTA station with my first paycheck in my pocket. Now I’m getting closer to staring down at my first Social Security check. I wish I could walk that one back to my parents' house too, but that nest is long gone, and these tired wings feel every opening and closing bell since.
I’ve never been slothful a day in my life, but I have played it safe somewhat. The beginning of my life was about making my parents proud. The end is about making the ShepKids proud. I never take the time to be proud of myself.
Go to work, come home.... Rinse. Repeat.
Still, I don’t know why I worry. Eleven minutes of retirement sounds just about right...
...followed by an eternity with no hate, no bills, no traffic lights, no sore muscles.
And until then, I will stuff my eyes with wonderment, live bold and not slothful nor safe.
In the Grabber section this morning, I put a timestamp on the next decades.
There are 1,667 days until the 2030s.
There are 5,319 days until the 2040s.
Somewhere in those days lies our best story. Filled with crying, laughing, eating the perfect omelet, losing someone that we love, and maybe, just maybe.... Finding that moment so still and beautiful that it makes us believe in something again.
It is life...
.... chalked out in numbers
...wrapped in wonder and daring us not to waste a single F'ing day.
Make it bold. Make it matter. Make it astonishing.
