He sat staring out at the greenery of the garden; he found great solace in the beauty of nature.
Yes, he remembered; he could see it now. He could see himself standing in a line of first year apprentices. He sat for a while visualizing the white, pressed lab coats. The dress mode that told everybody you were there for the training – there to be told. Good old days really… technology at the leading edge. New stuff being developed for the world of engineering and commerce; with large companies sending in orders for pumping, diffusing and heating equipment; all destined for the world outside.
The foreman had addressed the group of some fifteen or so young boys. Boys, because back then engineering was for males. He gave a short pep talk about their rotation through the various departments within the company.
Then came the man in the suit. The Personnel Manager. What did he say? He said there were three stages to a man’s life. Pretty grandiose stuff really! He told them there was school, and said they had all seemed to have progressed through that. A little touch of comedy to ease the tension on that first day. There was work… and then… then there was retirement.
Retirement! Something happened at that point. Some strange feeling of distant foreboding had set off a small, insistent alarm bell in his brain. He didn’t really understand it at the time, but he did now.
He thought back over the years and the number of times he had said that retirement was not something he ever wanted to seriously consider. But now, here it was, gnashing its bloody teeth at him!
He had recently dreamt up a newspaper headline; The Great Technical Writer Depression of 2013.
He sat pondering for a while, idly musing on what such an article would say. Sources within the recruitment industry tell us that we have entered a period of economic decline, during which the number of suitable contract roles for Technical Writers has fallen to, and remains at, a severely low level.
He smiled to himself. No, not really. Far too many other issues for anyone to be bothered about that.
He thought back to a recent conversation with his wife. He had referred to his situation as ‘falling into the abyss’, ‘passing through the gates of hell’, ‘being swept into the maelstrom’. Colourful terms, but summing up the way he felt nevertheless.
He was penning notes about the sheer ghastliness of it all when he was brought back from his reverie by one of the cats leaping up to the sill outside of the study window. The movement caused a momentary distraction and he looked up to see the pet staring in.
He then looked out beyond… beyond to the greenery of the garden.
He became aware that he was finding comfort again, and reflected on how powerful a thing it was to be lifted from the maelstrom and brought gently back to the beauty of nature. It was always there, always available. The ever present gift of finding solace in the beauty of nature.