The Second Half

In the cobbled lanes of Málaga in  Spain, shaded by orange trees and painted in sun-washed whites, lived Señor Manuel, a retired literature professor nearing his eighties. He had spent the first half of his life scaling the heights of academic prestige—lecturing, writing books, debating in university halls, and wearing stern glasses with an even sterner gaze.

To his neighbors, he was always “Don Manuel”—the serious man who walked precisely at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m., nodded curtly, and kept his books more company than people. Children didn’t dare kick their football near his fence.

But something changed after his wife passed away. Days grew long and heavy. One afternoon, as he sat on the garden bench staring at fallen orange blossoms, a ball bounced onto his porch. A small girl nervously approached, expecting the usual scolding. Instead, he smiled and said, “Shall I kick it back, or may I play too?”

From that day, Don Manuel became simply “Manu” to the children. He began skipping rocks along the riverbank, coloring suns with crayons, and laughing—really laughing—again for the first time in years. He even broke out his very tarnished harmonica from a drawer and learned to play simple nursery tunes, and he was a fixture at the park where toddlers would gather around him like ducklings.

When an old student visited and asked if he missed teaching Plato, Manuel chuckled, “I’m still teaching. Only now, my students don’t write essays—they teach me how to see ants march, how to giggle at clouds, and how to feel time again.”

One of the local mothers once whispered, “Isn’t it sad? He’s become like a child again.”

But a nun overhearing her said gently, “No, querida. It’s beautiful. He’s finally remembering what life is for.”

Moral: The deeper wisdom often comes not in growing up, but in growing back—into wonder, play, and the joy of being fully alive. 

Moral: 

The deeper wisdom often comes not in growing up, but in growing back—into wonder, play, and the joy of being fully alive.

Inspiration: 

The first half of life is learning to be an adult-the second half is learning to be a child. - Pablo Picasso