Photo by 🇻🇪 Jose G. Ortega Castro 🇲🇽 on Unsplash
Today I stumbled across an article claiming that the magic number you need to save for a “comfortable” retirement is $1.5 million. I only skimmed the article, but I’m pretty sure it was written for people living in the U.S. who plan to retire around 67. And by “comfortable,” I’m guessing they mean having a roof that doesn’t leak, food that isn’t ramen, and health insurance that doesn’t send you straight into bankruptcy.
Apparently that number used to be $1.2 million, but—surprise, surprise—inflation and insane healthcare costs dragged it higher. Because of course they did.
’ve been thinking about retirement a lot more since hitting my 40s. Not because I hate what I do (far from it), but because I’ve always dreamed of having enough time to actually live—write books, build cool things, hang out with my wife, spend time with my daughters, and be there for my parents as they get older.
Back when I first did the math, I had considered a lot of things: paying for college for my kids, paying off our mortgage, and establishing some kind of financial cushion that my daughters could benefit from once they started their own families. I don’t remember the exact breakdown, but I came up with the ridiculous ballpark figure of $4 million if I wanted to retire at 50.
Spoiler: I’m now 51, and I don’t have $4 million lying around—no offshore accounts, no duffel bags of cash buried in the backyard. But here’s the cool part: a lot of the big hurdles I once worried about are already done. One of my daughters has already graduated from college, with no student loans, and our second daughter has just started her freshman year. Our house is also paid off, which is a huge relief, and since it’s a real house—not one of those cookie-cutter builds I see going up everywhere—it also means we don’t deal with outrageous HOA fees. We’ve got space, privacy, and nobody is going to complain if I sneeze too loudly.
Honestly, when I first did this exercise years ago, I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d get here. But I have to thank my wife for helping guide us with a practical mindset—we didn’t buy flashy cars, didn’t pursue unnecessary luxury; just smart decisions and patience.
Now I’m thinking… do I really want to wait until 67 to retire? Watching friends and family reach that age has shown me that in your 60s is also when more serious health problems begin to creep in. And while you might be financially comfortable, your health may decide how much you actually get to enjoy life.
So last year, my wife and I started talking about what it would take for me to retire at 55. I don’t have an exact number yet, and I’m not certain if I’ll be able to pull it off—but I think it’s something I need to seriously evaluate. Knowing myself, I wouldn’t just sit around doing nothing. I still have a lot of gas left in the tank, and my brain doesn’t know how to sit still. So no, I wouldn’t disappear to some beach and sip coconut drinks forever. I just want to use the time I have left to pursue personal goals: mornings dedicated to creative work, and afternoons and evenings spent with family, books, friends, and silence.
My mind has been going at 100 mph for the last 30 years, solving complex and interesting problems for employers. I can’t help but wonder—what if I used that same energy for something that lives closer to my heart?