Today, my dad retired, two days short of his 41 years' government service. His boss, a no-nonsense person, described my dad, an `icon'. Must admit it's a proud moment one hears this about a parent.
Two days' on, my second innings at work begin, after a two year break.
On the same date as my dad began my first innings, 41 years back.
For the woman who I am, brought up fighting stereotypes, this is a moment I've waited for - when a parent leans on you for support. Yet, when the moment dawns, fear overwhelms every other possible emotion.
Can he, who rarely stayed away from work, manage without it! His colleague joked this evening, ``Welcome back!'' They know he'll rush back to work first thing after this. Still, official `super-annuation', as they fancifully call `retirement', is the thing.
As for me, it's divine forces that got me back to where I belong - work. And I officially re-start now. Whether fear of the new workplace is bigger, or that of shouldering responsibility back home, is hard to tell.
There's happiness too. When he received accolades from the boss of his organisation, I was not away at a workplace and pining for leave, or crying over not being there for him.
Despite this, swinging between fear, fervor, and joy, I look at the tired eyes below the grey mane that rest for the night, worry-lines intact.
Miles to go...before I sleep.
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