Retire in Mexico?
I never thought retirement
would ever be the way I went,
so imagine my embarrassment
when I found my instincts leant
toward letting my employment go
and heading down to Mexico!
When I checked out the internet
to see what info I could get,
it led me to a rendezvous
that told me what I had to do.
It’s been no struggle, you can see,
Retirement was made for me!!!
Prompt words are cusp, rendezvous, retirement, struggle, embarrassment and internet.
Last Ride
He was a motorcycle zealot,
so when his wife said he should sell it,
he protested, “It’s too soon!”
and headed out under the moon
in zipped-up jacket and leather boot
for a ride along that route
he’d ridden in his glory days,
but this time it was in a haze.
Those gorgeous hills and dales he’d ridden
somehow now seemed to be hidden,
rivaled by McDonald’s and
Target and Computerland.
Gone all the open road that he
had ridden when he’d felt so free.
His buddies ’round him in a pack—
Rowdy Bill and Badass Jack.
That place where they had raised such Hell
now turned into a Taco Bell.
He turned his bike back homeward then,
back to his place in Shady Glen.
Tacked a sign that said “For Sale”
over his bike next to the rail
whereupon he hung his youth,
wild and free and so uncouth:
his leather jacket, his buckled boots
his companions down so many routes.
Hills and valleys away from home
where in wild youth, he’d gone to roam.
Finally knowing those days were done
now that he was ninety-one.
Vivid Mexico
Those individuals who choose to spend the remaining years of their life south of the border have some strengths in common. Some come because it is a cheaper place to live, but those who remain generally stay because of a love of the richness of the life here. It is an existence not free of snafus—a life not for the lackadaisical or the personality set in its ways. There are fewer safeguards and rules–fewer antimacassars to protect chair backs from oily heads. Fewer lifeguards to warn someone they are too far out in the water.
If one falls into a hole where the manhole cover has been left off and sues for damages, the judge is more likely to enquire if they were blind and then to dismiss the claim. You couldn’t see the cover was gone and walk in a different place? It is a place of accountability for one’s own actions, creating less of a propensity to blame problems on someone else. Mexico is not perfect, but it is perfectly beautiful and varied and life-filled. If one wants to cram a lot of life into their last twenty to forty years, it is one of the places where it is possible to do so.
Prompt words today are antimacassar, lackadaisical, snafu, water. In addition, Pensivity’s “Three Things Challenge” prompt words are individual, strong and border.
Photo by Nick Collins on Unsplash. Used with permission
Beets
They say there’s a conspiracy in our retired community
to try to form a sort of dietary unity.
Go easy on potatoes and cut down on your beef.
They say such limitations bring intestinal relief.
Cut down on your sodium. Eat fish instead of meats.
Eschew bread and pastry, but double up on beets.
You’ll assuage all your ailments, cut down on your weight,
and a much longer lifetime will likely be your fate.
More years without chocolate. More years without bread.
More years of deprivation. And then you’ll still be dead!!
Prompts for the day are retire, conspiracy, community, assuage and beet.
In Retirement
I lie in bed, flat on my back, head raised by pillows,
computer raised to eye level
by a wadded comforter over bent knees.
I listen to raised voices in the village down below,
the staccato of an inadequately mufflered car revving up,
a hammer falling on wood, birds in the coco palms.
A pianissimo chorus of dogs spread
over the surrounding hills swells to a frenzied crescendo,
then falls silent but will swell again.
I have dropped obligations
like clothes shed for a lover.
My Saturday morning pool aerobics and zumba,
I slipped out of years ago.
Group luncheons hang from doorknobs and chair backs.
Committee meetings lie sloppily abandoned in the hall.
I have retired from the running of the world
to run my own small universe on paper.
Saturday morning is my brainstorm session
with “Me,” “Myself” and “I.”
“I” suggested feeding the dogs,
but they are quiet now, so
“Me” suggested we let them lie.
“Myself” laid out some words to dry
in the heat of the fire of our communal
inspiration, laying them smoothly on the page,
rumpling up others in her fist to send them sailing
to join the crumpled singles event invitations in the corner.
This slow Saturday morning dressing of pages
and stripping them bare
is a sort of ceremony celebrating seizing time
and making it my own.
Pages fill up with passion, angst, anger,
irritation, joy, laughter, camaraderie.
There is more than one word for each.
Imagine such control over your world–
not having to live the world of any other.
If you could have any life you wish?
Imagine a Saturday morning building it.
Click on any photo to enlarge all. The Poem “An Ex-Pat’s Credo” follows the photos.
An Ex-Pat’s Credo
Some may think my generation’s recent mass migration
to be a “giving up” on life—a certain violation.
That rubric that we stay engaged to ease our children’s lives—
to witness births of babies (then their twos, threes, fours and fives)
may not be the paradigm we choose when we are older.
Some of us want changes, and some of us are bolder.
We want to spend remaining years discovering and delving.
Do you think it’s selfish to continue with our “selving?”
Families are wonderful and we love them well,
but parents can’t be always living by the bell.
Once a child is raised and off on their next adventure,
their parents have not signed any articles of indenture.
They, too, can now be off to see what else their life may hold,
and though that path’s not right for all, before they’re very old
they might desire a warmer place or country that is new,
but what they choose to leave behind is certainly not you.
They’ll carry you in hearts and minds, and they’ll still hold you dear.
They’ll Skype you and they’ll Facebook. They’ll visit every year.
They’ll be there for graduations, celebrations and each birth.
They’ll share your family’s traumas, their successes and their mirth.
But they won’t be waiting at home for you to call,
for the children to find time for them between school and football
and proms and camp and movies and parties with their friends,
for they well remember that the schedule never ends!
See this as rehearsal for the day your kids will go
off to other places to learn and change and grow.
You’ll wish them well and though you’re sad, will send them to their fate.
and then perhaps decide there’s more than kids to educate.
You’ll then be free to concentrate on new states of existence—
free we hope as we’ve been from their loud insistence
that you spend the whole rest of your life putting them first
no matter what your own dreams are, no matter how you thirst
to see what there is left in life, perhaps, like us, to travel
not through a wish to leave behind, not seeking to unravel,
but rather like two busy bees intent upon their hive,
demonstrating by their acts that they are still alive!
The prompt words today are migration, violation, rubric (an established rule, tradition, or custom) and concentrate. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/rdp-tuesday-migration/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/25/fowc-with-fandango-violation/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/rubric/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/concentrate
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 