The first thing my wife, Peg, said when I retired was "Good news! Now you'll have time to clean the garage!" Not exactly good news-it was the one task I'd been putting off. Inside the garage had been gaps so big you could see all the way down to the ground and all the junk that had piled up since I'd started my job.
I'd earned a job as a news director, a position where I could use my skills. I threw my whole into it and put aside all the family trifles. I'd even worked my way up to head of the office. And after 30 years' service, I knew it was time to retire. But after decades of long hours and strict deadlines, now what?
This dusty garage didn't seem like much compared to the marble halls of the office building. Sure, I would have more time to spend with my family, but I worried I'd lose the sense of purpose and identity I had felt in my job.
I picked my way past coolers, snow shovels and folded canvas. Here I was puttering (磨蹭), of all things. I pulled on work gloves, then removed a box of motor oil out of the way, intending to empty some shelves when my hand hit something hard. What could that be?
"Just a dusty tin of seeds." I sighed. "Huh, maybe older than me."
I grabbed a plastic tray and pushed them into the soil. "What are my chances?" I asked an experienced gardener. "Not very good," he said. I told Peg with a sigh, wanting to get rid of the tray, but something made me hesitate.
One morning, a sprig of green accidentally came into my view. Was it just grass? A weed? Or could it be...? I found myself checking first thing every morning, until one day I saw leaves unfurled. I proudly showed off the broad, healthy leaves to Peg and our grandchildren. "I just feel it even something this old can still come up. Pretty cool, right? Just like your papal!"
