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Early this month, my husband asked what day school started.

“I have no idea,” I told him.

Why would I? My kids are adults and my grandchild is too young for kindergarten. For decades my life revolved around the school schedule. Now it just means that I time my errands so I don’t get stuck behind a school bus.

How I used to love this time of year, with all the markers of fresh starts — the hint of cool air, the spanking new school supplies, the pretty new sweater. Everything was infused with possibility and sparked energy.

I felt it as a kid and I felt it as a mom. Through most of my career as a journalist, I felt it — story ideas came fast and furious in the fall, and I was particularly psyched to tackle challenging new work.

The school calendar dictated my rhythm, and served as a proxy for several stages of life.

Fall feels different when you’re older. The obvious metaphor is the changing of seasons, and we all know that winter, aka death, follows the beauty of the changing leaves. The once invigorating air turns bone chilling.

But what was really troubling me this year was that I didn’t feel my usual fall rush of productivity. I’m barely working — just the occasional assignment. Nor am I volunteering. Participating in my community has always been part of my identity, whether it’s teaching writing to incarcerated men or helping run a local food pantry. Otherwise, I feel like a waste of space.

And man, how I use to hustle at my paid job. I wrote a bi-weekly newspaper column and multiple other articles in between. And wrote magazine pieces. While I was raising kids. And teaching. How did I have the energy?

Sure, I’m older. But I have friends my age who are busy learning new languages, mastering musical instruments and taking on other challenges. Not me. I’m exhausted. So what’s wrong with me?

Last week, I was talking to a friend about how useless I feel.

“All I do is consume,” I told her. “I’m not putting anything back out there. I’m not working.”

“Maybe,” she suggested, “You have to learn a new way to define work.”

Relearn what working means? I didn’t get it. I knew how to work very well; I just wasn’t productive now.

“Think about how you are spending your time and why you might be so tired.”

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Okay, I spend hours of my week taking care for my 98-year-old mother, from physical care to financial management. She needs constant attention and reassurance. While she’s in amazing shape for her age, she is still almost a century old. We go over things again and again.

And when someone is really old like my mom, activities unfold in slow motion. Everything takes longer than you think it will, from bringing her to the doctor to explaining the plumber’s bill. My mom is legally blind. There’s absolutely no way to pick up the pace.

On the other end of life, I spend time caring for my almost one-year-old granddaughter. She is an utter delight, but also exhausting in a completely different way than her great grandmother is.

Keeping up with her toddling, and hoisting her up and down is physically tiring, of course. I’d forgotten the constant vigilance a baby that age needs. But in addition to straight up babysitting, I spend time with my little granddaughter so she’ll feel secure with me. I’m not the exciting, bring-a-zillion-gifts grandma. But when the baby crawls into my lap and rests her head on my chest, I know I’m a safe harbor.

I hope I always will be, for as long as I’m in her life.

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“So,” says my friend, “You are providing love, safety and care to two vulnerable human beings who are on opposite ends of the life span. Isn’t that important work?”

Okay, maybe my friend is onto something.

My current work doesn’t involve new supplies, outfits and Lord knows it doesn’t come with a paycheck. It doesn’t even run on a familiar schedule. But it is still important. And damned if I didn’t learn something new this school year after all. The idea of work — both its value and its very definition — can be relearned.