Today is my father’s 50th birthday. Happy 5-0, Dad! I’m not sure if he feels old, but I do know I do. I feel old to have a parent in their 50’s. After 50, most people tend to think more about their retirement. Those who know me must think it’s strange I mention retirement. My dad retired about seven years ago from the military with twenty-five years of service under his belt. My mother, who is not in her 50’s yet, also retired ten years ago with twenty-one years of service. My parents now working civilians.
I used to think 50 was really old. 50, to a young me, meant you had lived your life, you were ready to stop working, your kids were all grown up and you had a litter of grandkids running in circles around you. Well, my dad’s lead a good life, but it’s far from over. My father is a workaholic; and even when he does retire I’m sure he’ll keep his self busy around the house until his body completely gives up on him. Dad has one grown up kid (me) who keeps coming back home and one kid (my sister) who is still in high school. And he has one unplanned, but very welcomed, grandchild (my little monkey) who is trying to run circles around him, but still needs help. My father is nothing like I thought a 50 year-old should be. Then again, I thought all that up when I was five. Heck, sixteen was old back then.
I think I’d doing well over all with how old I am. I’m nowhere near where I wanted to be at this stage in my life, but I still have high hopes for the future. I just have to figure out how to get what I want. Hopefully, this year back home will help me figure some of it out. Or at least keep me busy trying to figure it out while I wait for my beloved to come back home to me.
Until next time…