Diary of a future rentier (80)

Me voilà de retour d'une petite balade bien agréable dans la nature. C'est une belle journée presque déjà printanière, légèrement ensoleillée, avec le mercure qui grimpe jusqu'à 13 degrés. Quelle quiétude, loin du stress du travail et de la ville, le sentiment presque d'une dimension parallèle, où le COVID and the 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?