All the angst of the last few months – all the worry, seems to have evaporated with my husband’s declaration:
‘I’m going to have a gap year!’
For those of you who have not followed my blog recently I need to explain that my husband’s retirement has not been easy for either of us.
While he has fretted about lack of purpose I’ve fretted about him.
While he’s fretted about me having so many writing projects, my ability to write has ground to a halt.
While he’s fretted about wanting to live back near the sea I’ve fretted about leaving family and friends.
While he has fretted about wasting the last summer and not really doing anything except things around the house, I’ve fretted over what he might like to do to bring peace in his life.
We both fretted about his health and blood pressure – fretting didn’t help!
I longed for quiet and space whereas he craved company and constant conversation.
‘We are poles apart,’ he said – frequently.
Fret, fret, fret. Six months of fretting!
I know the very moment everything changed and it wasn’t making a New Year’s resolution. We didn’t even wait up to see 2015 in. No. It was when he suddenly decided to have a gap year.
I was nervous about it at first – what on earth did he mean? Was he going to volunteer to work abroad for a year or go travelling around the world on his own … or what?
Then a strange thing happened. We had an unexpected cheque through the post which I won’t explain, but suffice it to say that it was to do with my late father-in-law.
Our good friends suggested that it was ‘Dad’ sending my husband a 60th birthday present. That sounded a perfect explanation.
Suddenly my husband seemed content that I was busy working and I stopped worrying what he was doing.
Whist I found my writing voice once more, he began to plan a variety of trips throughout the year. It’s given him a purpose, lots to occupy himself with and research for.
Last Monday I was determined to try to begin to ‘write’ again. Instead of moaning that I was busy I was given a bunch of roses.
On Tuesday the first trip was booked and we made the decision to try and go for a walk together each day.
By Wednesday three trips were almost organised and during the morning he crept into the office just to pop a cup of tea on my desk, without saying a word.
On Thursday afternoon we took time out to go for a walk with friends together. Not only did it give me inspiration for another novel but we planned to go camping to Cornwall with them in the summer.
And so I will be content with a frenzy of work followed by exciting trips throughout the year.
I would like, with all my heart for my husband’s 60th year to be extra special for him!
Maybe I won’t need that writer’s shed in the garden after all. We’ll see!