CAMPSITE STORIES: And, Here’s What She Said:
Retirement gives you a unique vantage point, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? It’s like climbing to the top of a hill. Suddenly you can see the whole path behind you. Every twist, turn and stumble with clarity you just didn’t have when you were really walking through the shit. Looking back and seeing those missteps can be a heavy thing to carry. Oh boy, where do I even begin? If my life was a romantic comedy, it wouldn’t be When Harry Met Sally. It would be a gritty film called What is Wrong With This Person?
Most people spend their whole lives defending their past choices rather than looking at them honestly. If you feel like unpacking any of it, I’m here to listen. What kind of choices stand out to you the most when you look back? They tell you that retirement is a time of golden reflection. You’re supposed to sit on a porch, sip chamomile tea, watch the sunset and feel a deep sense of wisdom wash over you.
Well, I’m retired, I’m sitting on my porch and the only thing washing over me is a massive wave of secondhand embarrassment for my younger self. Now that I have the luxury of time and hindsight, I can look back at my life with 20/20 vision. And let me tell you something, I made some truly, breathtakingly stupid choices.
Take my twenties for instance. I apparently had a neon sign flashing above my head that read: “DANGER: FIXER-UPPERS WELCOME.” I didn’t want a partner, I wanted a project. I dated artists who refused to work, musicians who were “about to catch their big break” for seven straight years and people whose emotional availability matched that of a brick wall. So why in hell did I stay? Because I genuinely believed my love could change them. Do you believe that? So yeah, here at these campgrounds, people are real. Nobody bothers me when I’m camping. We all just wanna slow it down.