Years ago when our sons first started leaving home, there was a fair bit of coming and going. I called them our “boomerang” kids because they’d move out and then come back for a while. When my husband and I finally became empty nesters, I remember feeling two things at once. I was proud of them for doing exactly what we’d encouraged them to do, and I missed having them around. I wrote about that feeling in What I’ve learnt since becoming an empty nester.
What I missed most were the conversations that happened while we were doing something else. You’d hear about something that happened at school or work while you were making dinner, or a conversation would start in the car on the way home. All three of our sons now live overseas, and we still see them quite a lot. In between visits, messages and calls keep us in touch with the everyday details of each other’s lives. Lately, we’ve also been seeing our little granddaughter on video most days. We get to watch her play or see what she’s just learnt to do. My husband and I look forward to those calls immensely.
Years later, when I left my career in education, I recognised some of that same feeling I had when we became empty nesters. I was used to being able to ask a colleague a quick question and find myself still there ten minutes later, talking about something else entirely. Once I retired, I realised how much those small conversations had meant to me. I also began to think about what I wanted to give my time to now that work no longer shaped my week.
The Artful Parent
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Before I retired, I’d given plenty of thought to when I could afford to retire. It took me longer to ask what I was retiring to. That’s the question I explore in the video below. I talk about the four ingredients that helped me find my way, and two of them, purpose and connection, have changed how I think about what makes an ordinary week feel satisfying.
Here is the link to my video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSUBq_5Qjdk
I missed having something to contribute
I was ready to leave the demands of an executive role, and
I enjoyed having more say over my time. What surprised me was how much I missed having an idea to work on and someone to share it with. I’d spent years in education, and one of the things I most enjoyed was helping people make sense of something they were finding difficult. It took me a while to see how much I still wanted to do that.
I thought of this when I came across Lyndsey Simpson’s book The Age Rebellion. In the opening chapter, she describes how her recruitment firm brought around 400 retired bankers back to work in eight weeks. Several banks needed people with experience in commercial banking in the 1990s for a six-month project. Simpson started by calling former colleagues, who put her in touch with others. Four years later, she writes, 250 of the people recruited had taken full-time roles at one of the banks.
I can see the appeal of being asked to do something that makes use of what you know. For me, that now happens through writing and making videos. I might begin with a question I’ve been turning over in my journal and spend a morning trying to put into words what I’ve learnt. There’s a moment when I can imagine someone reading it and thinking, Yes, I’ve felt that too. That’s often what makes me want to go back to the draft the next day.
I had to be more deliberate about seeing people
Since retiring, I’ve become more aware of the kinds of company I enjoy. I’m often more comfortable one-to-one, and a walk with someone I can talk to properly is one of my favourite ways to spend time. I like that we can have a conversation about something that matters, fall quiet for a while and then pick up wherever we left off.
There’s something about seeing someone regularly that gives you more to talk about over time. You remember what they were worried about last week and can ask how it went. You hear the small things that might never make it into a long catch-up. A regular walk, a call or something you do together can make that kind of conversation a part of the week again.
What would I look forward to next week?
I still like having a morning with nothing in the diary. There’s room in my week for that, and I’ve learnt that I also like having something I’m eager to get back to and someone I’m looking forward to seeing. Occasionally those two things come together. A conversation on a walk can give me an idea I’m still thinking about when I sit down to write the next morning.
If you’re wondering what you’re retiring to, it might help to start with next week. Who would you like to spend a little more time with? What would you enjoy giving some of your time to? I would have found those questions easier to answer when I first retired than the much bigger question of what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.