It’s that time when retirement starts to feel like a near horizon, and my husband and I are trying to plan a dream we can savor as it approaches. We’ve been through a lot together and deserve a solid, joyful retirement plan that we can look forward to.
So, occasionally, we sit down, talk, and share ideas about what that might look like. The problem? Every single time, the discussion ends in tension. If *planning* this dream causes so much friction, I can only imagine how living it will go.
I’ll admit I’m a bit traditional in my ideas of planning our retirement. I might not be bursting with innovation, but tradition can be upgraded, modernized, and given a fresh twist, so let’s be honest—I am *not* the problem here.
For instance, I’ve been dreaming of a cozy, modern cottage or farmhouse on our acreage in Calgary, bordered by trees and blessed with views of the Rocky Mountains. In my mind, there’s a quaint little greenhouse where I grow herbs like sage, rosemary, mint, basil, and gardenias. I can almost smell the earthy, sweet, and fruity fragrance of the gardenias mixing with the herbs. I picture my cats lazing beside me, the sun filtering through the glass, and my sons and their families visiting on weekends. The kids play, the house fills with laughter, and my heaven is complete when I sniff that perfect baby powder smell from my grandchildren’s heads. Honestly, I think of that scene, and I melt. Pure bliss. Nothing groundbreaking, just a woman’s dream of a peaceful retirement.
Now, you’re probably smiling and imagining the tranquil beauty of Alberta, right? But wait, because here’s where the plot thickens.
My husband—oh boy—has another idea—a DONKEY FARM.
Yes, you read that right. My husband, who grew up being treated like a prince, worked hard to carve out the life he wanted, indulging in a fancy lifestyle along the way (and let’s be clear, he earned it), and wants to spend his golden years raising donkeys. Not only is he used to the finer things, but he’s also a *perfectionist.* From my unprofessional perspective, he may even have a sprinkle of ADHD in there too. The man is constantly on the go. Plus, he’s elegant, always looking fresh out of the shower, no matter the time of day. So, how on earth does someone like him see himself as a donkey caretaker?
I’m already imagining our future conversations:
“Dano, why does the house smell like… poop?”
“The house is clean, Sam! It smells great. The smell’s coming from outside.”
“Oh really? Then why is there donkey crap in our garden?”
“Oh, that’s probably because the donkeys aren’t using the bathroom I built for them.”
“Excuse me? Do you expect me to believe donkeys can use a toilet? …. Maybe it’s my *plants* pooping around here then?”
And did I mention that he’s not stopping at donkeys? No, no. He also wants to add a few alpacas and a couple of horses to the mix. Because obviously, one species of farm animal isn’t enough!
So, I should stop daydreaming and do something else before I live in a house that smells like a farmyard.
Dana Obeid
