I know people who don’t work and are perfectly content.
They read, they watch movies, they sleep.
It’s all good to them.

I’ve been ‘retired’ for two years now and what I’ve learned is that the drive
to contribute my skills and talents, to make money to help support our life–it’s strong.

Others knew this about me and I denied it, stubbornly refusing to believe it
After all, I’m my mother’s daughter.
Despite a strong work ethic before she got married, she developed into a champion lounger,
as my sister in love and I laughed about last week.
And I thought I could be, too.
World-class relaxer, I thought.
Mellow life.

But guess what?
I’m also my father’s daughter.
He worked until his memory gave out and then mourned the loss of his reason for being.

I don’t think I’m that bad.
But I can’t shake this need to contribute.

Watch this space.