I slept right through my alarm this morning. It seems an odd thing for a retired guy to say, but it’s true. I set my alarm for 5:30 because I enjoy the morning. The dark then the light. The quiet. Previously, it was my private time before my wife woke. Now, she’s gone. But it’s still my time. I use it to write. Most days I’m done by now. Today I’m just getting started.

Yesterday I spoke a bit about what to do with my remaining years, whatever they might be. It seems as though the first 75 went by in a flash because there were things that needed doing and I did them. But now what? And it came to me that life is a bit like building a house and I’ve built three. There’s the slab, and the framing and all the big work, and it takes time and always feels as though the house will be done in no time because it’s so big and so fast, but then you hit the inside when the house gets trimmed out. Things slow down because there’s a lot of detail work. Baseboards, cabinets, paint. All the things the make house look fine and liveable. I think that’s where I am now, I’m putting the trim on my life.

I’ve published a book. I’ve always wanted to do that. I have more planned. I’m writing songs again and singing. I’ve always wanted to do that. I have more planned. I write every day, these little essays, as though I’m painting the rooms of my life and my day. A little color here a little color there. And all of this is wrapped around a fifty-year marriage, three wonderful children, four equally fine grandchildren, a nice career, and a college degree. My life is hardly a mansion, but it sure is a home and there’s still work to do. And you’re welcome to come over if you can bear the clutter.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale