On Saturday, we celebrated Clif’s birthday, and as the title of this post indicates, he is now 62. As is the birthday tradition in our house, Clif chose the activity of the day—a bike ride—and what he wanted to eat—pizza at Mia Lina’s and then a supper of pulled pork tacos at Shannon and Mike’s home in SoPo. For his birthday cake, a homemade spice cake with a butter cream frosting.

In addition, I gave him the gift of time. This sounds like a funny kind of gift to give a person, and a little explanation is in order. Normally, our weekends are filled with things to do, both inside and outside. Clif is quite handy—lucky me!—and there is no end to the things that need to be tended or fixed—from replacing a door sill to unclogging the tub drain to fixing a leaky hose. There is wood to be stacked. Peppers to be chopped and frozen. Lawns to be mowed. On Saturday, I told him not to worry about any of those things, that this was a day to do exactly as he pleased. I would take care of the trash and the other errands. Clif didn’t argue, and he spent part of the day doing what he loves best, working on his computer. (Clif, Clif, the computer guy.)

After I did the errands, we had pizza at Mia Lina’s and went on a windy bike ride along Marancook Lake. The day was sunny and fine, but we had our work cut out for us as we rode into the wind. After the ride, we sat on a bench at the public beach and watched the gulls, who seemed to have forgetten they were sea gulls and were instead spending time at the lake. Perhaps they were on vacation, needing a rest from all the summer tourists?

As we looked at the water and the birds, Clif ruminated about being 62, which in our country is a hallmark age, the official start of retirement age.

“Since I was 16, I’ve had to think about working,” Clif said. “But at 62, society tells you that you can stop thinking about it so much.”

Clif plans to work until he is 66, so his benefits will be better, but I understood what he meant. Clif is entering another stage of life, and such transitions always make a person stop and reflect about what he has done and what he would like to do with whatever time is left.

“True enough,” I replied. “And you have every reason to feel good about turning 62. You can bike 20 miles and still get on a bike the next day.”

Clif nodded. The wind rippled the dark blue lake and ruffled the feathers of the gulls. Undeterred by the breeze—they are used to much stronger winds at the coast—the gulls sat serenely on the float. Before them, the small beach was empty, and there were no swimmers in the water. There were just two people sitting on a bench in the grass, two people talking about time and age and birthdays.