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COLUMN: I'll retire some day ... really, I will

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By Candis Carpenter

Forty years, four months and one day – the countdown is on. That’s the day I’m eligible for retirement.
I have plans of sitting on a beach somewhere (preferably in Gulf Shores, Ala.) and soaking up the warm rays of sunshine – just as I did a few years back.
 I can’t wait to read a book without interruption, nap whenever I please, take a boat out for some deep-sea fishing and do all the things that I want to do, when I want to do it.
 However, my dream of the “good days” took a jump off a tall cliff when I realized that retirement might not be as good as planned.
I’ll be 62 years old. Don’t get me wrong, 62 is not old, but it’ll be old on me. Some mornings I can barely crawl out of bed now, add 40 years to me and I will be lucky to lift up a fishing pole, much less use it to catch a fish.
Sixty-two is too old to retire. How in the world will I ever enjoy what I worked for my entire life? There has to be a solution.
I’m not going to win the lottery – my luck isn’t that good. I’m not going to inherit a ton of money – my family is modest. I guess I’ll just continue to work, I haven’t thought of a better plan yet.
It’s a possibility that I will get to 62 and feel better than ever and travel to the beach, but if not I can watch traffic pass by from the comfort of a porch swing – breeze blowing and all.
There are times when what you have planned just doesn’t pan out – this was one of those times for me. I simply didn’t realize that retirement age is 62. I was thinking more along the lines of 40.
You can only imagine my disappointment.
With that being said I have decided to take a little advice from Mark Twain:
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”