The youngest person at Goodwin House Bailey’s Crossroads, above, explains why he moved in. Photo courtesy of Goodwin Living

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When I was a boy, I worked at an “old folks’ home” in the Tenley Circle neighborhood of Northwest Washington, D.C. The “old” people at what’s now Seabury at Friendship Terrace were fun and mellow. I liked that they didn’t have the cares and woes of the workaday world. I found that old people are young people who aged — some better than others.

When I got older, I wanted to live like them. I moved into Goodwin House in Alexandria, Virginia, just three days shy of my 61st birthday. The average move-in age is 84.

At the office, I was one of the old guys. Here I’m the youngest resident. I have certainly been the object of curiosity. At first, many people would ask me my age. Or if I worked here.

But now, almost four years later, I am happier than I have ever been in all my life. Every day, at some point, I say to myself, “I can’t believe I live here” — and in a good way.

I could not replicate on my own what I have here at Goodwin House. It’s not just the amenities: a library, indoor swimming pool, gym; it’s all the amazing people I’m surrounded by.

In a retirement community, you don’t only get to know the residents; you come to know the employees — they are like family, the family you want to be around. My home is not just my apartment; my home is this community.

Why I started planning early

I’m relieved to be here now, on my own terms, because I’ve seen what happens when other people don’t plan ahead. My grandmother, a great-aunt and a neighbor stayed in their houses too long and weren’t able to make their own decisions about where they moved.

Ever since I was essentially orphaned at age 17, I learned to be self-sufficient. I’ve always wanted to be as prepared as possible; that gives me peace of mind.

When I began planning for retirement about 10 years ago, I moved from my house to an apartment. That meant taking on the exhausting work of offloading many of my possessions. I told myself that if I had separation anxiety from “stuff,” I could buy more later, but that didn’t happen. I’ve learned that if you can’t eat it or wear it, don’t buy it. I have enough stuff — what I need is love, warmth and meaningful relationships.

After the move to what I thought would be my “forever home,” I asked myself, “I have this much energy now, so how much energy would I conceivably have 10 years or more in the future?” I realized that another move could be even more difficult.

So I started planning ahead. I looked around at nearby senior living communities and got on the waiting list for Goodwin House when I was 56. I hoped to move up the list by the time I was in my 60s, but I didn’t feel any pressure because I wasn’t obligated to move in at any particular time.

During those waitlist years, I attended some events at the complex. At open houses and ice-cream socials, residents would ask me, “Are you looking for a place for your parents?”

When I replied that I was looking for my own apartment, the typical reply was, “I should have moved in sooner.” I knew I was doing the right thing.

Retiring here has saved me from social isolation. If I had stayed in my apartment in Arlington, I would essentially be on my own during the weekdays, while most of my neighbors were at work. But I’m not on my own here at Goodwin House.

Life on the inside

There is a new Netflix series called “A Man on the Inside,” starring Ted Danson as a detective undercover at a senior living community, and the show, with its spunky and wise characters, is quite true to life.

My next-door neighbor, for instance, who just turned 100 years old, told me to let her know if her music or football game is too loud so she can turn it down.

Yet younger people like me can thrive in retirement communities and contribute to the culture. They can even inspire communities to evolve and add activities that cater to a wider age range.

Then again, when you live here, you can do everything or nothing at all. Participation in group activities is not mandatory. Just because a person moves into a retirement community doesn’t mean that they’re an extrovert. Some are here primarily for the continuing care, not the social life, activities and amenities.

Here, I’ve been given the luxury of free time. I haven’t cooked a meal since I moved into Goodwin House, and my apartment is cleaned once a week. Less to do, less worry. The 1989 song “Always Saturday” could be the theme song of where I live. Some of the lyrics are, “I want to live where it’s like today, I want to live where it’s always this way, I want to live where it’s always Saturday.”

How I spend my time

Now that I’m retired, I can choose how I want to live each day. I worked for 45 years, and some of it I found satisfying. But I am finding another type of satisfaction now.

I’ve found that in my own community. I never planned or imagined that I would be volunteering in the healthcare center, or in the nursing care and memory care departments in my community. Now I spend my days reading to a blind woman, a stroke survivor and a woman with Parkinson’s as well as visiting patients with dementia and Alzheimer’s.

Today I have much more meaning in my life. I have made a difference in the lives of others, and vice versa.

I can understand for some the choice and concept of aging in place — the sentimental attachment and memories associated with a place people want to hold onto. I have heard people say that they don’t want to live in “one of those places” or they don’t want to be in “dormitory-style living.”

But I didn’t “give up my independence” or anything else to live here. On the contrary, I have gained a great deal.

For me, the expression “Life is a journey, not a destination” isn’t quite true. I’ve found that there are many destinations along the way, even when you don’t expect them. Destinations, to me, spark delight and joy.

I’m not looking for a fountain of youth. I can and do experience feelings of joy now. Although I’m still a planner, always looking to the future, I enjoy being in the moment and savoring it.