Georgia A Hubley

My right hand dug deeper into the bag of chocolates, again! There I was, first thing Monday morning, breaking the promise I’d made the night before. I’d promised myself there’d be no more drowning my woes in a pound of chocolates or an entire loaf of hot, crusty bread. But by midmorning I’d consumed half of the bag of chocolates and had begun to devour a loaf of hot sourdough French bread, one slice after another, thickly spread with pure creamery butter.

It was amazing how I rationalised my behaviour. I blamed it all on stress. After all, a large conglomerate had gobbled up my employer of twenty years, there’d been a reduction in salary and benefits, and I was subjected to longer work hours. And I continued to overindulge in food, which at the end of the day only made me fatter, not happier.

After six months of helping make the merger a smooth transition, I announced my retirement. After a magnificent retirement send-off, my husband and I purchased a condo where we’d always planned to retire, the central coast of California. Although I was retiring ten years earlier than planned, my husband assured me I had made the right decision. “You can finally do what you’ve always wanted to do, live near the ocean and write full-time.”

I settled into the new community and made many new friends, most of them writers like myself. I thrived on being among my peers. I was overjoyed at the writing opportunities that came my way.