A Play in One Short Act
Cast of Characters
MYSELF: 60-year-old woman with dislocated kneecap
MY BODY: Gruff offstage voice
Place
Myself’s home
Time
Daytime
Setting: Living room with couch and coffee table
At Rise: Myself sits on couch, leg on coffee table, ice pack on knee.
MY BODY (angrily)
Happy now? Is this how you wanted to spend our retirement?
MYSELF
Why are you so mad at me? All I did was stand up after Italian class and boom, my kneecap was dislocated. I didn’t do it on purpose.
MY BODY
Well, let’s start with that. Italian class. Did you really have to add another activity on top of everything else?
MYSELF (shrugging)
I don’t do that much. Remember how it used to be, before retirement? Waking up early? Going to bed late? Working long hours? Traveling for depositions and conferences and meetings?
MY BODY (sounding put upon)
Yes, I remember how you counted on me to function while you gave me little sleep, bad nutrition, too much wine, too much stress.
MYSELF
Don’t I get some credit for retiring as soon as I was eligible?
MY BODY
Nope. Shifting our activities from work to fun wasn’t nearly enough. You’re six decades old. You’ve had your career. Why do you feel like you still need to achieve all the time?
MYSELF
Achieve what?
MY BODY (sighing)
Let’s see. Walking dogs at the shelter, teaching yoga three times a week, signing up with that nonprofit that helps people who are experiencing homelessness, starting a writing group, working on a novel, joining a book club. You can’t even stop achieving when you’re reading, with that pretentious challenge on Goodreads. And let’s not forget the silly Italian class.
MYSELF (sitting up straighter)
Italian class is not silly! È molto buona! That means it’s very good, in case you haven’t been paying attention. All the things I’m doing are good! This is how I want to spend my retirement—
MY BODY
Our retirement.
MYSELF (rolling eyes)
Okay, our retirement. I’m doing good things. I’m helping dogs and people. I’m exercising my brain. What do you want me to do, while away the years I have left in a rocking chair?
MY BODY (sternly)
The years we have left. And there won’t be that many of them if you don’t listen to me now. You need to rest more, achieve less. Remember our FOOSH?
MYSELF
What’s a FOOSH?
MY BODY
Fall on outstretched hands. It invites fractures all the way from the fingers to the shoulders. Remember how we tripped on the sidewalk while walking a shelter dog, and you stuck out my hands to break the fall? Remember how you fractured bones in both of my arms and tore ligaments in both of my wrists soon after we retired? Then we spent the next year in physical therapy, orthopedic visits, surgery, a cast, and then a splint — remember?
MYSELF (left hand reflexively rubbing right wrist)
Umm, yeah, but everything healed, and I was able to go back to all those activities you’re complaining so much about, with no issues. What about 2023? That was a good year.
MY BODY
Remember 2024?
MYSELF
Well, that was a horrible year because Mom died. But didn’t I halt all those activities you hate so much to be with her when she got sick? And didn’t I take a break afterward to grieve, to recover?
MY BODY
Yes, you did. But then you went right back to achieving. And while we’re on the topic of achieving, didn’t taking care of Mom fit into that bucket too?
MYSELF (raising voice)
Don’t you give me that. I did nothing wrong in being there for her! I’m retired. I had the time. What did you want me to do, lie on a beach while strangers took care of her?
MY BODY (apologetically)
That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying, you’ve always put so much emphasis on achieving, on doing. What about putting some emphasis on rest?
MYSELF
Plenty of people have much busier schedules and much bigger difficulties than me. I retired when I wasn’t quite 57. Plenty of people have to work hard their whole lives!
MY BODY (softening voice)
Let’s not worry about plenty of people right now. Let’s worry about us. Look at our dislocated kneecap, for goodness’ sake. How many more bad things have to happen before you’ll slow down enough to actually take care of me?
MYSELF
This is the retirement I want to have! Giving up any of my activities would mean admitting defeat.
MY BODY
Our kneecap doesn’t agree.
MYSELF (shaking head)
I’m not ready for the rocking chair.
MY BODY (pleading)
Maybe not, but can’t we find a pace that your achieving mind and your aging body can agree on? One we can both sustain in the years to come?
MYSELF (adjusting ice pack, grimacing in pain)
I’ll think about it.
CURTAIN
