Sixty used to sound like an ending. Retirement loomed, hair grayed, and the narrative often closed with a sigh and a shuffle toward “slowing down.” But for those of us inching toward that milestone now — with decades of experience, unfinished dreams, and a still-burning sense of curiosity — 60 feels more like a launch pad than a landing.

Purpose doesn’t retire. It reinvents.

Over the past year, I’ve found myself in conversations with people my age (and myself, if I’m being honest) asking not “What do I do now?” but “What do I want next?” That question might sound simple, but it’s revolutionary when it comes from someone who’s been defined for decades by work, caregiving, or expectations. There’s something quietly radical in reclaiming your time — and your narrative.

For some, this means pursuing a long-postponed dream. A lawyer-turned-potter. A grandmother-turned-activist. A man who walked away from corporate finance to open a jazz café. These are not reinventions born of crisis, but of clarity — a realization that time is precious, and identity is elastic.

Having had children later in life, I’m sending off my youngest to college as I near 60. At the same time, my husband and I continue to support our two adult sons with disabilities as they pursue their own version of independence.

For a while — almost two years, actually — this was more than enough. After more than 30 years of running a company, it felt freeing to focus on my family and what they needed. But in recent months, I’ve found myself circling a new question:

What is my purpose now? Where am I going next?

I knew I wanted to do work that stirred my passion. I also knew I was done with the grind — done being ground up and spit out by the end of the day. And somewhere in that messy middle, I found it. Or rather, I’m finding it. And part of that discovery is this column.

I’m starting this column because I believe we need better stories about aging. Stories that aren’t steeped in loss or nostalgia, but grounded in possibility. Yes, our knees might ache and our vision might blur, but so many of us are just hitting our stride. We have hard-won wisdom, sharper instincts, and fewer illusions. What better time to live deliberately?

In the months ahead, we’ll explore what it means to grow older with intention. We’ll talk about love, health, money, friendship, grief, beauty, legacy — and yes, what we’re still hungry to learn and give.

So let’s start with a question:

What would you do if age weren’t a limit — but a license?

I want to hear your thoughts, your suggestions and your recommendations. Let’s make this a collaboration.

Rindraty Limtiaco is Not Done Yet.

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