Marilyn was irritable. She had a headache. And her fuse was short. Her patience—did she ever remember having any?—was long gone. The stress of losing her job just 5 years short of retirement, with full benefits, had taken its toll, and, through the process, she had somehow been transformed from a fairly easy-going, almost-retired-60-something, into a screaming-mimi-shrew.

   She had planned so carefully for her retirement dream. 

   To celebrate 30 years of accomplishment at a top rated company, that apparently did not have the good sense to keep up with the times, she had spent 27 years planning a dream vacation as a retirement gift/project for herself and her husband. She and George had planned to take a month long drive—no highways—through the scenic back-roads of the U.S. while they photographed images for the coffee table book they planned to write and publish. Together, they had spent hours looking at maps for their trip and looking for and listing gift shops that would carry their book, and for festivals that catered to tourism.

   They had had such plans for a carefree, fun, retirement trip. Early on, George had dubbed it “The Grand Retirement Road Trip.” It had never been referred to as anything else for the past 20 years. With the early retirement forced upon Marilyn, along with the reduced income and zero health benefits, their standard of living had been dramatically lowered. And of course “The Grand Retirement Road Trip” was never going to happen now.

   Marilyn had not taken the loss of her retirement dream graciously, and she did not like herself much for it. But, even so, she felt overwhelmed and buried alive in an avalanche of negative emotions. The heat of her angry outbursts did little to melt the icy tomb she was trapped in. And she was terrified her angst would do permanent damage to the loving relationship she and George had shared for so long. 

    She had to pull herself together.

   “George McCandles, after nearly 40 years, you ought to know better than to expect me to dig through that abyss of a garage of yours looking for a suitcase I have not laid eyes on in 2 years . .. and start packing for a destination unknown no less! Besides, we cannot afford a trip to the bathroom right now.

   “Just pack honey. No questions.”  

  How had he managed to stay so calm throughout this horrendous situation? Situation? This was no situation. Situations could be temporary. Life as they knew it—or at least as they had planned it—had been changed… forever.

   Marilyn was a bottomless pit of anger and disappointment.

   “Pack what? Don’t be silly. I have work to do.”

   “Humor me Marilyn. Go get your suitcase and pack. Pack anything you like. Pack for the weekend. We leave in the morning—at least I’m leaving in the morning, with or without you.”

   George knew how to get his way when he really wanted to.  Grumbling...loudly...Marilyn headed to the garage.

   She had known all along the suitcase was in the attic and reached up to pull the stairs down. The last time it had been opened was probably when she put the suitcase up there 2 years ago, after that last vacation. Since then, all vacation money had been earmarked for “The Grand Retirement Road Trip.”  There would be no more vacations until she retired. Of course, after she lost her job, they had been forced to use every penny of the retirement trip money to pay bills they had planned to have paid off using income from her job, well before her retirement day arrived.

   The attic was hot. Why was that old footlocker where the suitcase should have been? Oh yes, she remembered asking George to bring it up here while she was still anticipating retirement. It had been taking up space in the spare room they were turning into their new retirement office. He had been so excited to remodel the place where they were going to work together on the book after “The Grand Retirement Road Trip.” They estimated the project to take at least a year or two before it was ready for publication. George had even joked about hiring a publicist for them after they became famous.

   Their dream of a lifetime, years of planning, and having great fun while doing it, had been wiped out in a moment because of a bad business decision on someone’s part. She tried to swallow the bitterness and make it go away. But it just sat heavy on her heart, poisoning her from the inside out.

   In spite of the heat, she flopped down in front of the footlocker and flipped open the latches. She raised the lid to a chest filled from top to bottom with photo boxes and albums. The oldest was on top. George must have been looking through it before he moved it from the spare room. She lifted the box of pictures from the locker and began to browsed through snapshots of their earliest days together. There were photos of the two of them before they were married, a few loose shots of their wedding and their first home. They had not had much, but they had been so happy. She picked up the picture of their first car together. She smiled. They’d been so proud of that thing. Then came pictures of their baby girl and the business they had started and built together. The baby had grown into a beautiful, successful, loving daughter. The business had folded. She hadn’t thought of that business in years.

   She remembered that businesses fail sometimes.

   Looking through the photos she appreciated, once again, what a good life she and George had built together. As photo after photo fell from her fingers back into the box, she felt the burden of self pity begin to lift. She felt her heart begin to lighten.

   It didn’t matter where they were going this weekend. Nothing could replace the dream that had been stolen from them, but she knew that she did need to begin acting like the adult she was and accept their present circumstances for what they were. 

   George had. 

   And he deserved better than a grumbling complaining wife for doing what he could with what they had. It didn’t matter what he had planned, she took a breath and determined to treasure it--whatever it turned out to be--and to add it to the photographic memories already stored away in the old foot locker.  

   She realized her behavior of the past few months had been dreadful. And to make things worse, she had taken her anger and bitterness out on the one person she loved above all others, George, who had been her faithful, loving, husband and companion for almost four decades. 

   Remorse bit into her conscience. 

   “God forgive me,” she groaned, “ I have been such a childish fool.”

   Marilyn tucked her memories away, replaced the lid to the old locker, then reached for the suitcase that had been wedged just behind it. With resolve and a new-found joy in her heart, she dragged it down the attic stairs and carried it into their bedroom where she laid it on the bed and opened it. She would pack it full with anticipation for the upcoming weekend she now looked forward to spending with the love of her life.

   She began to empty the case of remnants from the last vacation: a letterhead note pad from the resort, some miniature lotions she always intended to use but never seemed to, a few cream and sugar packets she had neglected to take into the kitchen, and an itinerary from the trip.

   It had been a really nice trip. Knowing it would be their last before her retirement, they had splurged on a trip to Cancun. She scanned the page, “Drive 5 hours to reach old Appalachia, eat only at Mom and Pop cafes if possible, and spend one night at Mountaintop Lodge.”

   Wait a minute. This isn’t the itinerary for the Cancun trip!

   She looked down the page and saw at least a dozen similar entries with a personal message at the bottom.

 

   Marilyn,