Diary of a future rentier (80)

Here I am back from a very pleasant little walk in nature. It is a beautiful day, almost already spring-like, slightly sunny, with the mercury rising to 13 degrees. What peace, far from the stress of work and the city, the feeling almost of a parallel dimension, where COVID and Rat Race are not in use. We come across retirees alone, in couples, some walking one of their grandchildren in a stroller. We also see mothers chatting while sitting on a bench or adopting a leisurely jogging pace in sportswear. And, like an intruder in the middle of this "inactive" population, a forty-something struggling to hide his winning smile.

During this walk, several rather strange feelings jostle within me. First, the impression of being a kind of imposter or a stranger who has no right to be there at that moment. "You should be working," my remaining professional conscience tries to whisper to me. Very quickly, however, I silence it by concentrating on the present moment and answering: "Be quiet. I have worked more than was reasonable for you in the past. It is now time for me to reap the fruits of that." Vague memories also resurface. The impression for a moment of having plunged back into the carefree world of my university studies, during which I strolled while everyone else was working.

What if this was happiness?