There’s something peaceful about sitting on my porch in the morning, cradling a warm cup of coffee, and letting my mind wander. The birds are chirping, the air is crisp, and for a moment, everything feels perfectly in place. My favorite rocking chair creaks rhythmically as I sip the coffee and take in the stillness, and lately, my mind keeps drifting toward one question: what will I do when I retire?
To be honest, I’m not entirely convinced retirement is for me. Sure, the idea of kicking back and doing whatever I want is appealing, but I have this nagging feeling that I might just end up wasting my time “enjoying life” without being, well… productive. And there’s a part of me that thinks that could drive me crazy.
Right now, when I’m at work, all I want is to be back on that porch with my coffee, free from the stress of deadlines and daily grind. The commute alone is enough to make me reconsider my entire career sometimes. I could do without the traffic, the meetings, and the constant hustle. But then again, when I’m sitting there, rocking back and forth, what would I really do with my time? Would I fill the days with meaning, or would I just sip coffee all day and let time slip by?
Maybe I’d get back into hiking or even pick up cycling again. I used to love those outdoor activities, the kind that got me moving and let me connect with nature. Alaska has always been on my mind, too. There’s something about that vast wilderness that calls to me. I’ve always imagined moving there in the spring and staying for a whole year, just living life as it comes and leaving 18 months later, after I’ve experienced everything from the endless summer days to the quiet, snowy solitude of winter. A little far-fetched? Maybe. But coffee has a way of making me think anything is possible.
At the same time, I can’t deny how much I enjoy the simpler things in life—cutting my grass, clearing stumps, and having bonfires. There’s a kind of satisfaction that comes from seeing a well-kept lawn and knowing I did that. Not to mention, there’s nothing like the crackling sound of a bonfire on a cool evening. But is that enough to keep me happy for the next 20 or 30 years? Could I really spend my days trimming hedges and chopping wood without slowly going stir-crazy?
I’ve talked to a lot of people about retirement, and everyone seems to have their own grand plans. Some want to travel the world, seeing all the places they’ve never had time for. Others dream of spending their days on the golf course, perfecting their swing. I’ve even heard from folks who plan to start new businesses, take up photography, or volunteer full-time. It sounds wonderful in theory, but I always wonder—what happens when the novelty wears off? When you’ve checked off all the places on your bucket list or finally hit that hole-in-one, what then?
There’s also the looming question of money. I can’t help but worry about whether I’ll have enough when the time comes. Everyone talks about how you need to save, invest, and plan for the future, but I’ve heard horror stories of people who thought they’d done everything right, only to find out that their “golden years” weren’t quite so golden. And let’s not even talk about inflation—it feels like every year the cost of living goes up while my retirement fund just sits there, quietly not keeping up.
And what’s up with the retirement age? When I was younger, I thought 65 was the magic number. You put in your time, and boom—you’re done. But now, it seems like the finish line keeps getting pushed further and further away. By the time I hit 67, they’ll probably raise it to 70. And when I hit 70, who knows? It could be 72, or maybe they’ll just decide we should keep working until we drop dead at our desks. At this rate, I might be sipping coffee in my rocking chair while telecommuting from a nursing home.
But here’s the thing: when I think about not working, there’s this nagging guilt. Like I should be doing something “productive.” What does that even mean, though? Isn’t living a happy, fulfilled life productive in its own way? Maybe cutting my grass, clearing stumps, and lighting bonfires is productive, just not in the way we’re conditioned to think. Maybe sitting on my porch, sipping coffee, and enjoying the view is exactly what I need to be doing, but there’s this voice in my head that says, “Nope, you need to be achieving something.”
There’s a funny story I heard about a guy who retired early. He had grand plans to do all the things he’d never had time for—travel, start a new hobby, learn a language. And you know what happened? Two months in, he realized he missed work. Not because he loved his job, but because he missed the structure, the routine. He ended up getting a part-time job at a grocery store, just for something to do! Now, I don’t think I’d go that far, but it does make me wonder—how much of our identity is tied up in being “busy”?
On the flip side, I also know people who have fully embraced retirement. They’ve thrown themselves into their passions—painting, gardening, bird watching, you name it. They seem genuinely happy and content, like they’ve figured out the secret to enjoying life without worrying about productivity or money. I envy that sometimes. Maybe that’s what I should aspire to.
In the end, I don’t have all the answers. But I do know one thing: I’ll probably keep sitting on my porch, sipping coffee, and thinking about it. Maybe I’ll find the balance between enjoying life and feeling productive. Or maybe I’ll just spend the rest of my days cutting grass, clearing stumps, and watching bonfires burn, all the while thinking that retirement isn’t so bad after all. As long as I’ve got coffee, anything is possible.
Mark R Steinpreis (Author)
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Photo by: Matheus Bertelli