Remember when you decorated your bedroom walls with posters? Maybe you were a teenager or in college. Some were photos of your favorite band, no doubt. Others were quotes from popular films. I had one that said “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Love Story- The book and later, the movie – was a favorite back then. (I had no idea what it meant, at the time.) There was a famous Farrah Fawcett pin-up for the guys and a pantless Burt Reynolds for the girls. We used our walls as a means of announcing who we were or, more likely, who we wanted to become. 

Somewhere along the way, we tore down our posters and invested in some real art. Portraits of our children were given priorities. Before digital cameras and computerized printing programs, we dressed up the kids and took them to places like Sears or Olan Mills, where they’d be posed in front of a fake background and photographed. 

Today, my walls are mostly covered with photographs that I’ve taken. There are a few family pictures and a gallery of grandkids on display. There are also a few pieces of needlework. Then, there’s my little corner where I play music and sometimes write. Both pastimes are high on my list of priorities these days, so I’ve carved a small space for myself. Even though I am passionate about my pursuits, they can be frustrating and overwhelming. During one particularly discouraging day of practicing the fiddle, I asked myself why. “I don’t have to play the fiddle,” I thought. “Why on earth am I doing this to myself?” The same goes for writing. Nothing bad will happen if I stop, right? 

Wrong! I set these goals for a reason. They are my aspirations and dreams. All I really needed was something to help me remember who it is that I am trying to become. I needed motivation and inspiration. I needed some posters!

So, I made myself some. They’re a lot smaller than the ones I had in college. But they do the trick. Searching Pinterest for quotes and sayings was amazing. I used an app called PhotoGrid to put them together. They hang on the closet door in the den, just beyond my music stand. I have to admit that I felt a little like a coed again. But that’s one of the benefits of retirement: You get to reinvent yourself. You get to revisit your dreams. And, once you get past the frustration, you get to make them a reality.