Member-only story
Reading the Monsters
I’ve been retired for almost a year now, and when I bump into people I haven’t seen in a while, they usually ask me two questions:
How’s retirement?
What are you doing?
The first question is easy, and I quickly answer with a one-word response: “Great.” I am thoroughly enjoying the freedom I now have to do whatever I want each day. During my 40-plus years as a teacher, I used to get up early each morning to read a bit and try to write a bit as well before I tackled my daily responsibilities as a breadwinner. Inevitably, I’d find myself in the middle of reading a chapter or writing an essay or a short story when the time came to shower, dress, eat breakfast, and head out the door. Today, I no longer face that daily task, and I am free to read and write for as long as I’d like, which is, essentially, the answer to the second question.
When I tell people that’s what I’m doing with the majority of my time, however, they look at me with disbelief, as if to say, “Really? That’s all you’re doing? Reading and writing?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful,” I reply to those who actually verbalize their astonishment.
For some reason, many of these people expect more. They expect me to golf or travel or exercise or volunteer in the community, and I’ve done a bit of all of those activities, but reading is…
