We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.
-Kurt Vonnegut
We are in our dresses, in our slacks, in our blacks and grays, a flash of white, crisp and tucked. Teary shines and mouths in lines, a small cracking through. We are the kids and the grandkids and the greats, bundled in the front but we’ll never be back; this is the last. There are flowers and a line and a chain of hugs, and no more grandparents other than the newly appointed ones, who really are just the kids.
Last time we did this we were a decade plus one younger. Ten people lighter. Now just one.
And on and on.
And every day you’re different and every day you grow, if you try, you grow and grow and you pray for wings to arrive. You made it through! You made it through alive! And your wings slice through and you’re ready to hit the ground lightly, to fly, to find your way. And even if you can’t see it, it happens every day, and they are, too.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am Of stars that do not give a damn, I cannot, now I see them, say I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky And feel its total dark sublime, Though this might take me a little time.
“you are my sunshine over a field of snow / and I love to watch you g[r]owâ€
—Brett Elderedge
“But if you send for me, you know I’ll come / And if you call for me, you know I’ll run / I’ll run to you, I’ll run to you, I’ll run, run, run / I’ll come to you, I’ll come to youâ€
—Lana Del Ray
“Will you still love me / when I’m no longer beautiful? / I know you will, I know you will / I know that you will / I know you will, I know you will / I know that you willâ€
—Lana Del Ray
“It doesn’t matter if you’re a loser, or a nerd, or a freak! All that matters is that you become BADASS!â€
—Johnny Lawrence, Cobra Kai
“Have confidence in where you are, but give yourself room to grow.â€
—barre3 instructor, 9/9/20
(me reading from the Crayons book) “ ‘Have you, Duncan? Have you ever been eaten by a dog and puked up on the living room rug?’ †(PreK-er2) “no I have notâ€
—12/30/20
(me trying to get PreKer2 to hurry up with something) “Come on, I’m not here all day!†(PreK-er2, knowingly) “Yessss you are…â€
—12/31/20
The picture could be the whole entry
“Do you think we should worry about this virus thing?”
“Did you see the video of the man being killed by police?”
“Why is there an American flag in the front yard?”
We were going to work, going to school, going to meetings, going on playdates, going to brunch, going to workout class, going to lunch, going to swim lessons, going to arcades, going on trips, going on waterslides, going out to dinner, going to concerts, going to rallies, going to gyms, going to pools, going to games, going to shows, going to marches and going to malls.
Stop and stay, stay safe if you can, between two worlds, the before and now. Between two worlds, the lucky and the not. Between two worlds, white and privileged, and everyone else.
Between two worlds, waiting for the votes to be cast.
Between two worlds, clutching a passport while kids struggle in cages.
Between two worlds, life outside a grocery store and death on the neck as breath runs out.
Between two worlds, the people who care and the family members who share memes.
Driving along 38th was a near-daily ritual in 2020, a near-straight line between two worlds of two kids, the same planet but separated only by place and age, a near-straight line between colorful privileged daycares equidistant from the home, the new office(s). A near-straight line on 38th, with just one jag south, around a memorial of a fist raised straight up high, flowers piled around, a movement sparked by Memorial Day murder.
Say his name! George Floyd. Say his name!
Between two worlds, 1865 when we solved it by ending slavery, before and after. Between two worlds, 1965 when we solved it with the Civil Rights movement, before and after. Between two worlds….and too far gone to solve it with just one year. Years and years to come.
That near-straight 38th-street line, hazy and bright in summer, darkening and Christmas-lit in winter. Nearly straight for me, just one inconvenience of a jag around the ragged edge, with a big green new park on the other side, all surrounded by safety and goodness. Jittery hands on the steering wheel as curfew approaches and Black Hawks fly overhead, wondering if this is enough or if more will burn, but nothing is begrudged. Some things are past words.
The near-straight line between smiling faces safe from disease, or at least safe enough, with their friends and computer school and “proyectos” and drawings, work turning into endless video meetings with breaks for tacos, two separate desks, faces on a screen. First grade finishing by Mommy’s side, not quite right but nothing is quite right? Maybe movement? Moving in front of a screen, in a masked class, outdoors, barre and biking and swimming, outdoors. Biking on the bridge to suburban paths as freeway cars race by, over the river. The beach! Lots of time at the beach, a short long stroller walk away with snacks and sand and deep swimming. Swimming in the little yard pool, too, brave swimmers, the shortest longest time, deep into the lake with friends or sometimes alone, to the buoys as adventurers, water as the siren song, explorers of our little few-mile radius. Covered in sand, climbing equipment, birthday cupcakes outside and ice-cream truck fiascos, touring every available park in the sun and sometimes the rain.
“Do you think we should worry about this virus thing?” Maybe? We went to the Dells anyway, it didn’t seem real and we washed their hands feverishly, no fevers. One last gasp of chlorine and cousins before it all changed. But still room for some more, three lovely road trips to see family that were even more precious for their rarity, an afternoon in a pool, a week caring for a nephew as they jumped off the top bunk, a weekend in Chicago on the big, big lake of deep, deep blue, a quiet family holiday. Surprised and lucky to see people as we did, safely, spitting into tubes with military standing by. Maybe next year we can have more.
“Did you see the video of the man being killed by police?” I did. We all did, or if we didn’t, we soon knew we should have. Rest In Power, to you and all of yours before and after you. I have been part of this failure.
“Why is there an American flag in the front yard?”A SCREAM! HE WON! “The reign of terror is over” but not a joke this time. The passports get stored away again, maybe some of this can be salvaged. We’ll see.
It has been quite a year, for everyone, and least of all for us, really. Some has changed, but not much; I spent this year of 38 on 38th and at home and around the lake, and sometimes, in other parts of the city and Midwest. I had friends and family who needed me, and I’ll run I’ll come. Because they do the same for me. There’s no school, but it turned out okay; the time in late spring was sad, but we found a solution, and I’m glad we did; it wasn’t right for her to be home alone with us, ignored. Just typing that makes me sad. I’m glad we have options.
I’m glad we have our jobs, which became more challenging and interesting at the same time; not due to location, but more to pace and time. The regular old truths. I’m glad I figured out how to leap, and I’m there now, ready to be a second-year Level 8, or something like that, just needed some more time to cook. I’m glad I like a challenge and I’m glad we like to be home anyway, video games and Barbies and books and art supplies and each other in hand. The four of us as it was always meant to be, a year born for us, for hanging out.
And more than anything, I am glad we are healthy and safe. Luck and privilege in one big package at my feet. Now what to do with that?
2021, what’s for you? Playfulness. Curiosity. More continued trusting of self, and my skill. More sharing of privilege in an organized way. Less doing of STUFF, more confidence, aka things I keep putting on the list. Less phone, more play. Less leaving the room via a screen when I can avoid it. Less judging, more forgiveness, modeling that mistakes are learning. Showing how we can care and honor our failings in that space. I could go on but I think a big part of 2021 is truly just waiting to see, in the spaces between every one of these different worlds. Give ourselves room to grow. Happy new year. Black Lives Matter!
“Climb every mountain / ford every stream / follow every rainbow / til you find your dream / A dream that will need / all the love you can give / every day of your life / for as long as you liveâ€
—Sound of Music
“That northern star / shines straight from your heart / your looks are evergreen / sweet as the angels as they sing // You look good in the light of my Christmas tree / so good / you and the mistletoe and me / so nice / you are my sunshine over a field of snow / and I love to watch you g[r]owâ€
—Brett Eldredge
We finally watched The Sound of Music last week, over three in-front-of-the-TV dinners. The whole story as to why we ‘finally’ watched it is too long and boring to get into, BUT it was a success, lots of enjoyment of the singing and dancing by Gradeschooler1 and PreK-er2, content re-watching by the adults in the house, and an opportunity to talk honestly about Nazis and why people might leave a country.
We are not leaving our country, at least not in the foreseeable. But it didn’t feel too far off not long ago.
The movie was chilling, for this reason. It wasn’t so bad, what the Third Reich people were asking The Captain to do, was it? Command ships—he’d done that—and keep his family and accumulated wealth and luxuries safe. Just go along. And yet. “What’s going to happen is going to happen, just as long as it doesn’t affect you don’t worry—“ “You must NEVER say that!â€
And yet they’re leaving it all behind to trudge through mountains, to escape with little and start with less, to be true to what they know to be right. For the first time, it felt like something I could almost imagine.
Things are better now, and they’re not. George Floyd was murdered, Trayvon Martin was murdered, Jamar Clark Philando Castile Ahmaud Arbery Breonna Taylor Michael Brown I should list them all but I also should not because what am I even doing. I’m white, I have a safe and luxurious home, I have a stable and above-beyond job, my family will be protected and I admit I felt better when I saw the Black Hawks flying high in June, I just don’t even know…I can hold up a sign and be an ally but I don’t have to flee this country after all. Legit what do I care / if icicles form / I’ve got my love to keep me warm stuff. So.
This has gone a little off the rails for an Xmas eve update, but that seems fitting for this year, no? A lot went off the rails, and there were new mountains to climb. Inequality and racism laid bare in a pandemic of unimaginable proportions. Distance and sickness cutting off growth. Many little mountains like computer school and spit tests and learning to function in whole new ways. I hope we as a country, as a society, as humans, can find a way to climb together…at least a little bit.
And in climbing there’s growth, and while it’s been an absurdly, inappropriately good year for us personally, I’d say the absolute best of the best has been watching that growth happen, in this house. Watching Gradeschooler1 and PreK-er2 play and learn and command attention in the ways all kids, but especially them, know how to. I know the song actually says “glow“, but I also love this: I love to watch you grow. Them, but also you and me and everyone, so we can keep getting better, keep making it better, keep climbing. Merry Christmas.
Hello. I logged in here to deal w/ a bunch of spam comments, closed comments to stop them, then realized I’d never actually turned on the spam comment filter when I last updated WordPress. THEN realized the spam comment filter was asking for $ now, which makes sense, so I gave them $ and entered the API key and magically it is all copacetic now. BOOM! The magical internet. More magical, in ways, back in 1998 when everything was free and wild and west-like, but I’m still glad it’s around and even more glad (now that I’m an adult; 16-year-old Lexi might not have agreed?) that people are getting paid for their good work. Like the spam comment filter people.
ANYWAYYYYY since I’m here, and plotting a future Xmas/NYE update to write without other distractions around, just thought I’d say hi. What a year to be alive, in more ways than one. NOW: Put up lights outdoors for happiness of Gradeschooler1. Eat treats. Play Bubblemania (yes it’s back, for me only lol). Wrap PRESENTS!!! Cut veggies. Listen to podcasts. Shower. Live.
November is remembering our beloved dead, dia de los muertos and dead veterans, dead friendships and dead leaves, dead ground under icy snow sheen. Curling leaves and changing relationships, spooky music still on the radio, closing car doors and whispered secrets, single-digit-week ultrasounds of summer children now well on their way to grown; flown birds streaking by, sky in monochrome. Alone in the wind.
Votes counted and confetti settled, the past keeps coming up, future untethered. Hope maybe nears? Winds of change keep blowing through and through and injustice rages on.
—
OK so that was dramatic but it’s what I had as I logged in here to clear out 923874957892704 SPAM COMMENTS. I’m sure I’ll be back for end of year if not Christmas Eve proper :).
“Our bones do blow away / in pink light / and in pink light we found each other / in the spring dripping with flowers / now in wind filled with human remains / the petals won’t stop blowing / with each setting sun asking / could there be another spring?”
-Phil Elverum & Julia Doiron / Mount Eerie, Pink Light
The news is there, but you’re not worried; you just didn’t know. Making cakes just for fun, making jokes about sneezes, it all seemed so harmless. You’re in a cheap Dells hotel with bare floors but the kids don’t care, doing handstands against the bed and throwing plastic balls at each other, cruising the lazy river and playing arcade games, washing hands, wash your hands, WASH YOUR HANDS!, don’t touch your face, but so far this is so far away, so we’re here riding rides and collecting tickets and trying the broken bumper cars again. Coffee and waffles by the river, beer and Jenga by painted bus-cars become food-trucks, jammed in a waterpark with hundreds of people, picking up dinner from a crowded bar…it was such a relief and now seems so sick. But we didn’t know, it was hardly March.
Going to give blood, going to happy hour, going to lunch…joking about how it’s the last time, going to standup to see faces because “it might be the last”…sanitizer tagged on your bag, telling folks to stay 6 feet away. Going to brunch?, no, going to the gymnastics meet?, definitely not, why not? (why not?! I wonder, exasperated, don’t you watch the news??), then the meet is closed to fans, then it’s canceled, then championships the whole season the whole seasons canceled. Olympics delayed, Twins bus turns around as it approaches Ft. Myers, Jazz game called off worryingly seconds before it began, touching microphones…no fans at March Madness, forget March Madness, forget anything, it’s all over. Worrying fear, panic edging in, breaking news every day, every hour, every minute is different.
“Why are we even here?” Doing all the right things, but the right things feel so weird, boxing up cables and keyboards and monitors, one early Thursday morning trip the store before things got out of hand, driving out of the parking lot for the last time with the whole lot of work-life shoved in the back. Scant workout class, then a panicky one, panicking while hearing breath, then cut it in half, then cut it to nothing at not at all; empty halls, sparse streets, messages with a teacher worried about her own family, school finally called off, stores finally closing, malls shut down bars shut down gyms and gatherings and events shut down everything SHUT DOWN, shut it down, cancel everything, canceling everything, doing the right things but it feels so weird. Never alone at home, apart together, Zooms and FaceTimes and digital media and Skype and screens. Gris and Blood of the Dragon and other doomsday music. And the worst is yet to come. There just aren’t enough masks and there just isn’t enough.
March.
EDIT: Closing comments on this b/c so much spam OH MY
In the fall of 1995 I competed in my second year of Level 6. Back then (!), Level 6 was a compulsory level, fairly basic, but because I was always just barely good enough, it required a second competitive year to get myself up to any kind of useful snuff. I was pretty killer that season, for an old Level 6, anyway, having had time to perfect the back tuck and the backwalkover on beam and even shooting the clear hip to handstand on occasion. I knew my weaknesses (still vault), but they were being worked on. I capitalized on my strengths, letting them shine, shining medals on shiny ribbons dangling down my neck. I felt pretty good and even managed to earn a high enough score a few times so I could leap right over Level 7, skipping it in that weird year where they allowed this. No one liked Level 7 anyway. Onward to Optionals and 8. I felt pretty unstoppable by the end of 1995, and it seemed Level 8 would be doable, just harder.
I didn’t compete at all in 1996. The way things worked for us, the compulsory levels, 5 through 7, competed in the fall, while Optionals started their competitive season in January. That left me adrift in 1996. I churned through the amalgamation of some sort of acceptable Optional routines, now spending every evening with girls I’d watched from afar (but who were finally my age), learning the complicated Code and scraping together skills fairly giant to me. Doable, maybe? Just harder. A lot harder. Before we knew it, it was January 1997 and the Optional competitive season had arrived.
What a leap. The first season of Level 8 was not at all just harder, it was full of hard falls and uneven errors and giant smacks, back whacking against the floor. Doing three RO BHS back tuck floor passes because you just didn’t know. Barely twisting the lamest vault possible. Falling at least once, how about twice?, every beam routine. And was I really supposed to let go of the bar, then catch it again (let alone the time I hit my foot and then bounced onto the ground)? And circle around it, body fully extended, with only gripped hands to guide me, handstand after handstand? (NOTE: lots of this applies to 1999/first year of Level 9, too.)
And then there was the flyaway. I’d learned giants, and that’s fine, but I had never figured out how to slow down enough and control my body going into the dismount, and so every single bar routine for the first half of the season ended the same way: with me overrating the flyaway onto my back, thwacking against the mat and then having to sheepishly stand to salute my okayness. I mean, I was OK, but it was embarrassing. It got to the point where I would look down at the dismount mat from my handstand on the high bar and think, ‘alright, this mat looks soft for my back to land on’, and just took it. Over and over.
Sometime mid-season I figured it out. I slowed down and landed on my feet. The other pieces started coming together too. By the second round, in 1998 (WASN’T IT GREAT!), I was back at it and feeling unstoppable. But I sure had not expected the adjustment of that first year out after so much Level 6 success.
This is kind of how I feel about work right now. I killed it last year. I got so much cool work done, got a ton of important stuff to go my way, launched some really great projects and held a team together and navigated my way through all kinds of new craziness and DID IT. I nailed it. 2019 was fantastic.
And now I’ve leveled up and I feel in over my head. A coworker made the point that if I know how to do this stuff—and I do, much like Level 8 me KNEW how to stand up a flyaway, just wasn’t yet—I’m NOT in over my head, and he’s right. But knowing more and knowing better comes with knowing your shortcomings and areas for improvement more and better, and the skills carrying you so well before need to be built upon, connected, complexified. Doable, but harder? A lot harder. And of course the vision of the next step from a place of great success is fairly rosy—how else would you make that leap?
I feel like I’ve been struggling with this leap, but 1995/1997 came to mind the other day and it’s so helpful. It is messy, but I’m doing it. Skills are ugly, but they’ll get better. It’s doable, just harder. And before I know it, a 1998-esque season will be upon me again.
(HAPPY LEAP DAY, I hope you enjoyed these references lolololololol. Yes I did wear blue and yellow.)
ETA: For your enjoyment(?)—past Leap Day updates 2012 (thought it would be start of new era; forgot 2016) 2000 (missed opportunity to reference leap day) So obviously I will see you all again in 2028, or 2032.
“Do you know what’s going to happen in the new year?” -a mom trying to gin up giving up the pacifier far too late in life “Yes.” -Preschooler2 “You do? What’s going to happen?” -the mom “I don’t know.” -Preschooler2 “Oh.” -mom “Do you know what’s going to happen in the new year, Mommy?” -Preschooler 2
—the maddening logic of preschoolers
“Happy new year! We won’t make it to 12:00 am. Wow 2020”
—Steve, 12/31/19
“If you could see what I see, you’d be blinded by the colours / Yellow, red and orange and green, and at least a million others / So tie up the bow, take off your coat and take a look around / ‘Cause the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blown’ / But you’re stuck out in the same old storm again / You hold tight to your umbrella, well, darlin’ I’m just tryin’ to tell ya / That there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head”
—Kacey Musgraves, Rainbow
“Everyone I’ve ever loved is here within these walls / I’m sorry secret siren but I’m blocking out your calls / I’ve had my adventure, I don’t need something new / I’m afraid of what I’m risking if I follow you”
—Frozen II
“And time goes quicker / Between the two of us / Oh, my love, don’t forsake me / Take what the water gave me / Lay me down / Let the only sound / Be the overflow”
—Florence + The Machine, What The Water Gave Me
“O Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder / Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made / I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder / Thy power throughout the universe displayed / Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee / How great Thou art, how great Thou art”
—How Great Thou Art
“For a moment this good time would never end”
—Dave Matthews Band, Stay (Wasting Time)
A cup of coffee, an open book, stretches and hurriedly eaten date bar, meditation music. Joyous morning greetings, sleep tousled heads, hugs of fleece contrasting nylon and lycra. Out the door, into the studio, step-taps and windmill arms and mid core, to laying breathless in the dark, music pumping, the bliss of movement. Stamps, postcards sent, snacks procured, reading and bacon and rolls and coffee once more. Reunited to goofballs playing, then a shower, quickly scooting out the door. Tiny hairs cut, diminutive braids, trifling sparkles and miniature lollipops; big smiles on beautiful girls.
Bright snow shoveled, neighbors saying hello, back out into the day to a favorite place. Chips and drinks and lunches and laughter, strange offers of salt and pepper from a helpful place as a child imitates the world. A quick hug with a friend, then crayons and colors and dressmaking diversions, a promise to return soon. Hungry anger, strawberry smoothie and soothed feelings, twilight shopping for screens. A ride of toy trucks, hands waving, kisses blown, shiny eyes and teeth gleaming with cheer; her first time with just sister. Screaming on a rollercoaster to the ceiling, streaking through the dark sparkled mall, flying around corners with our very first thrill-seeker by my side, the laughing exclamatory high as we disembark. One last circle riding horses, then back to snacks and pajamas and light-up glasses, a toast of water by the fire with kisses all around. Some silly shows, then snuggled deep, exhausted but comforted by a day together.
A year together.
It’s been quite a year and I mean that in a good way. It wasn’t all good, of course, and this was the year we lost Kathleen, but the surroundings were damn charmed, as it goes, and for that I am incredibly grateful.
It’s also been quite a decade, so a few words on that first:
-this is probably the 5th most transformational decade of my life…80s, I was born, 90s, I graduated, 00s, I got through college and started working and got married, 10s I had children…I guess you could say 10s was more than 00s but I don’t think so because one can’t exist without the other. ANYWAY. I suppose this is just the Way Of Life and nothing interesting, blah blah whatever the point is I am almost middle aged and the most exciting times are not to come, but I am really enjoying the less exciting times lately TBH
-I would say this decade has been for me/our household, in particular, about three things:
1: Serious Health Reckonings (though I suspect this will be part of future decades anyway as we get older, etc)
2: Kids
3: Career Moves (not away but up)(see previous disclaimer)
These have been interesting things and we have learned a lot. See Jane Run. Etc I have written about these before so whatever.
I would say the decade itself was about girls and ugliness, personified most in the USAG scandal disaster and the overall grossness that’s come out in the world about how horribly unfair we treat each other as a society. I do have a cockamamie idea about how better customer service will save the world in a way, that I can share with you sometime if you want, but the point is, we’ve spent the 10s getting the uglies out and while that’s icky, I hope it means we’ll start making progress. As society, that is. Unless we kill the Earth first. (Better than the 00s decade, maybe, which was about scams and hope? OK maybe not better.)
ANYWAY. 2019.
I feel like a lot of it was about water, or good things took place in water, but maybe that’s just because I love water so much. Swimming in summer, swimming up north, swimming in ‘our’ hotel in Duluth, Gradeschooler1 swimming in deep water and in shallow wading pools at Spanish camp, ancient baths in Chicago, the ocean in San Francisco, water in the church in Baraboo, in the Dells in the waterpark, in Madison with cousins. I’m probably oversimplifying it, but…water, man.
A lot of it was also about family and losing family. Losing Kathleen was hard for the grandkids, because we lost our Grandma, but we also got to think about her being reunited with LeRoy, which is nice. Losing Kathleen was devastating for the kids, because they were orphaned and alone and the cracks they had before were allowed to split wide. But they also found they had each other (some of them), and my parents did a great job of doing what needed to be done. She was 93; she had a good long life; it’s still really sad to have her gone.
A lot of it was about CONFIDENCE and CONVICTION, which is what I set out to care about, and which I did in grand fashion. I kicked some major butt at work, I led and launched a massive and visible project that I cared about deeply, I built enthusiasm and excitement and dedication on a terrific team that got us there, and at the very end I picked up a promotion and path forward that I’m nervous but excited about. In short, I am extremely lucky to have the job situation I have currently and I highly doubt it will keep getting better so I’ll just enjoy it when I can.
But back to FAMILY. I have the best family and life with Preschooler2 and Gradeschooler1 and Jeff just keeps getting better, for real. Jeff and I look at each other tearily as we watch Preschooler2 shed all that babylife (minus the GD pacifier HELP ME GOD) and move into little-kid-hood more each day. Gradeschooler1 still had her own baby face coming out of Kindergarten and now shoots up tall and angular and kid-ish, wanting to rollercoaster and swim and cross streets and walk to school without us. Boohoo. Our amazing babies. Giving us magic. Growing up.
Jeff is the BEST, and I say that a lot because it is true and also because he erroneously thinks the BEST is me. He really is, though; there’s no one I’d rather be with day after day. His goofiness and charm and peculiarities (being learned/adopted by Preschooler2 on the daily, btw) are a gift and a gift I get just for me. Thank you JEFF.
I was extremely lucky to see a lot of my dear sisters this year and I’m thankful for that. I especially am grateful for the trips I took to see them both because it’s exactly what I needed and just those few days made me feel closer to them and their lives in the best way! Also that roller coaster Jenny and I went on was incredibly sweet. Also it was so cool to go to my nephew’s basketball game and hang out in that city (Gradeschooler1 kissing random babies) with Stephie and her fam.
I had some nice times with my parents, especially this past weekend for ‘Xmas’ and celebrating their 40th in the Dells. Way cool.
Summer was too short and work did make it shorter. I hope to avoid that next year, at least in summer, but I also hope to make peace with not being able to be everything to my kids at every moment they want. We still had a lot of fun.
I gave blood a lot. I gave a lot of toys and money when I could to things. I didn’t give a lot else. It wasn’t enough–never enough.
A lot of the year in the world at large was about injustice, as always, that I did little to solve, except for close to home. Our daycare went through something terrible earlier in the year, and I’ll never forget stopping by with a card to see beloved Ms. Tati just before she had to leave, hugging her as we both cried. A chance at the life this country promises, torn away for reasons that don’t feel fair at all. I think I’ve settled at solving things more locally, but that means I need to expose myself to such things–not just wait for their calamities to peripherally descend. I’m still working on this, suggestions welcome. It can’t all be cash and blood.
So, the twenties. Minor detail but it will be nice to be able to say “the Twenties” like we said “The 80s” and “The 90s”, so I’m excited for that. The Twenties will also (mostly) be my FORTIES (age wise) so that is kind of shocking/frightening, as that’s old and makes it clear I’ll die someday as the invincibility of my youth wears away. Alas. By the end we’ll have a couple of teenagers. Goodness. (When I bought my car this year I realized…this will probably be Gradeschooler1’s first car. YIKES.)
But how about THE TWENTY, itself? 2020, that is. Here are my goals for 2020: DO LESS TO BE MORE / FEEL DON’T THINK. There is a lot wrapped up in these both, and they apply at WORK, at HOME, with PARENTING (aka, have KIDS do more and WE do less so they BECOME more – aka, hang up your own damn jacket 😉 etc.) and just with overall peacefulness. I have worked on mindfulness and being in the moment for ages, with mediation, with mantras, etc., and I think this sits nicely in those goals. Feel – don’t think. A little about trusting your instincts (see: CONFIDENCE + CONVICTION), a little about staying in that moment. These came to me a few months ago and have rung true since. So there they are, for 2020.
I’d also like to do 10 pull-ups. This has been a goal since 2018. I got to 5 last year, 7 this…hopeful that 2020 is the year. Geez. (Note, I obviously did not make this an actual priority, oops. Too much barre3 love!)
I hear fireworks. I made it to midnight, only by virtue of procrastinating on writing this earlier in the week…! HAPPY 2020.
There’s cars and you’re small and it’s dark It’s dangerous to go alone, take this! There’s too many of us and we’re all too far apart And we have to stick together they can see us better, together we’re safer as one Take my hand, stand tall Be seen and seeing, unalone, less afraid
An addict ponders a cure see its start in connection, the real gap we hesitate with A swirl of nightmares, the “worst dream of my life” quelled only by arms around body, slowing breath
Was the miracle not what child is this, but instead the joined joy? Shared silence, that moment in time before violence and darkness and doubt one small star united
