Another year has flown the coop, and I feel like a bird with clipped wings. Although I feel great and still can pass for looking pretty good, I’m not sure about the road ahead.

This is the time when most people my age start planning their retirement. I’m in the unenviable position of never being able to do so. It’s not because I’ll be bored sitting at home, or pick up knitting or playing bridge. It’s because my bank account won’t allow it.

I do have some things in my favor. For one, I have no mortgage and own my house outright. That’s big. I have no credit card debt and I intend to keep it that way. Some might call me parsimonious, but I call it being careful. Certainly there are times when I spent too much purchasing a really cool pair of boots, or bought a dress that I didn’t need but liked the way it looked on me. Those times are rare, and they’re usually around my birthday or Christmas. I did go all extravagant this year on purchasing such things as a new washer (the old one leaked all over the basement), and a new microwave (it too, died after giving me one last baked potato), having the ceiling replaced in my kitchen (it was falling down), having a tree service chop down upper branches that threatened to pummel my roof after the next big thunderstorm (errant branches already damaged my roof, causing leaks), replacing the leaky gas pipe that led into my house that was discovered by the utility who then turned off the gas on Good Friday, and having some plumbing work done on pipes in my basement so I could once again have cold water flowing to my brand-new washing machine. On top of that, I chose to take an expensive trip to Hawaii so I could visit my son who I haven’t seen in two years, just before he was deployed to the Middle East.

There’s no regrets spending money on those things. I needed them. Going to Hawaii was more than a treat. As any parent can tell you, the most precious investment they have are their children, and my son is no exception. I didn’t want another year to go by without giving my son a hug, listening to him as he talks about his car almost constantly, but somehow squeezes in matters that concern him. He’s going off to a volatile place in the world. I worry. He tries not to. And while he’s there for eight months, my heart will hold onto hopes that he’ll be safe.

Birthdays are a time to evaluate what’s going on in one’s world. What the next year will bring. What could’ve happened in the past year but didn’t. Can anything be changed, or will what lies ahead be the same old, same old?

In 2024’s birthday edition, I had a job that paid fairly well. Went skiing for the first time in 12 years (and I lived!). I had a hint of a romance that never panned out. Now, I’m jobless, can’t afford to go skiing (it’s supposed to rain, anyway) and there’s no one on the horizon. But in 2023, at exactly the same time, I lost my job. I found one that paid twice what I was earning. If it wasn’t for federal grants drying up, I’d still be there.

Time to evaluate how my skills can be transferred. It turns out that on LinkedIn there are millions of grant writers who face the same situation as me. But before this, I was a director of communications. Can’t I go back to that? What can I do to make myself relevant again?

It’s hard enough being a writer, let alone find a paying writing gig. I’ve applied for a couple and have heard nothing yet. Still, there might be something out there that hasn’t surfaced yet. I do enjoy working from home, as it’s given me a tremendous amount of extra time I didn’t have before. There also might be something nearby so my commute isn’t long. It also might be nice to be out in the world again, working with colleagues face-to-face instead of Zoom-to-Zoom.

After searching through online job postings for the past few months and coming up empty-handed, I took today off. Simply couldn’t do it. Instead, I cleaned my whole house. Hadn’t had a chance to do it since before the holidays. Even Windexed the windows. Hung some artwork on the walls. Found two three photo studio portraits of my mother’s first holy communion, my father’s graduation and my grandmother. Found room for them on my dining room walls. After I finished, it felt good, cleansing the dust from the past so that I would enter this new year of my life fresh.

There are more years behind me than there ever will be in front. It’s sobering. It’s also sobering that two of my friends have pancreatic cancer and another has prostate cancer. Each day is a miracle to them. One hopes she lives long enough to see her daughter graduate from high school this June. Another hopes that her cancer won’t metastasize. The third, who eats organic food, works out daily and doesn’t drink, wonders how cancer caught up with him. I think about all of them. So far, I’m healthy. Maybe that’s the gold I take forward with me this year – and it’s priceless.

So what am I doing on my birthday? Like the above picture suggests, I’m throwing myself a party. I’ve invited about 20 people and it seems most will come. No presents, just their presence. Though I feel pretty bleak sometimes being unemployed and lonely, I have no idea what this year will bring. I am most fortunate that I have 20 friends who want to celebrate with me. It’s the wealth that money can’t buy. For that, I’m grateful.