Travel after retirement to find the true meaning of life.
I am a 58-year-old retired woman, and my life has been like a dream in the past few years of retirement. As time passed, those dull and cozy days gradually became empty and boring. Since we don't have children, my life lacks a lot of excitement and energy. At that time, my husband had only retired for a few years, and every day after he went to work, I was the only one left in the family. The days become long and difficult. I was alone at home, wandering through the rooms, looking around, and I felt an indescribable emptiness. I tried to find something to fill in the gaps, but neither reading, watching TV, or doing housework could completely dispel the loneliness that hung over me.
The window in the living room became my only window into the outside world. I would silently watch passers-by hurrying by, imagining the stories of their lives. Sometimes, I see the neighbor's children playing in the community park, laughter echoing in the air. At that moment, I couldn't help but feel a trace of envy and melancholy in my heart.
As time went on, I began to reflect on my life. Why is tourism a source of conflict between us? Perhaps it's because of the stress and uncertainty of the trip that makes our emotions sensitive and easily excited. It may also be because of the long time and close itinerary, which makes our personality and habits friction in a small space. Or maybe we expect too much from each other and want to find perfect harmony on our journeys, but the reality is always not as good as we should be.
Last summer, a sudden storm hit my world and hit me the hardest blow since I retired. My husband, the one who was with me all the time, suddenly fell ill and was hospitalized. Every day, I stayed at his bedside, my heart full of anxiety and prayer. But fate showed me its cruel side, and in the end, my husband unfortunately passed away. It was the darkest and most painful time of my life, as if the whole world was losing color in an instant.
On the eve of the Chinese New Year, the cold air fills the city. I sat alone in front of the window, gazing at the silent street, my heart filled with confusion and sadness. The festive lights and festive atmosphere contrasted with my mood. The fog that condensed on the window panes blurred the outside world and blurred my vision. It was as if I was in a lonely cage from which I could not escape. People on the streets are hurrying and preparing to celebrate the arrival of the New Year. And I, on the other hand, felt extremely lonely at this moment.
The loss of my husband made me feel like I was lost in a sea of people. I think of the Chinese New Year we used to spend together, and those warm moments have now become memories that cannot be reproduced. I tried to find solace in my grief, and I recalled the years we spent together, and those sweet moments flashed before my eyes like a movie. I think of my husband's tenderness and love, his support and companionship for me. Even as tears kept falling, I also knew that his love would always remain in my heart.
In the silence of the night, I often sit silently in front of the window, looking up at the starry sky, looking for his presence. I'm sure he's watching me somewhere, watching over me. I told myself to be strong and to continue to face life's challenges bravely. But I knew I couldn't just bask in grief. I need to rediscover the joy of life and rediscover myself. So, I made a decision that this Chinese New Year, I want to start traveling again personally.
This time, I chose to travel alone, packed my bags, and embarked on the journey to revisit the ancient town. The moment I stepped into the ancient town, it was as if I had stepped back in time. This experience was completely different from the last time. The ancient stone roads, the quaint buildings, and the leisurely river are all like a picture of tranquility. I strolled through the alleys, feeling the precipitation of time and the charm of history. Instead of rushing to the sights, I learned to slow down and feel every detail with my heart. I savored the local specialties, chatted with the owners, and listened to their stories. I've found that the meaning of travel isn't about how many places you go, it's about being immersed in it and enjoying each moment.
One day, I stumbled into a small but sophisticated café. The smell of coffee fills the air, and the walls are covered with travel** and handicrafts. I found a quiet corner and sat down, ordered a cup of coffee, opened a book, and enjoyed the peace. When I looked up, the sunlight shone through the window like a golden filament, weaving a dreamlike dance of light and shadow. At that moment, an indescribable sense of satisfaction welled up in my heart, and it gradually flooded me like a tide. I gazed at the beautiful light and shadow, as if I could see the countless beautiful moments in my life flickering in it. At this moment, I suddenly realized that travel is not just an escape from reality, but a deep love of life and an exploration of myself. It taught me to be tolerant, to cherish and to be grateful, and it made me a more complete person.