A post on New Year’s Eve. Cliché? Probably. Nonetheless, I am posting deliberately since I won’t have this chance again. Tomorrow is all the new and I am grateful for all the old. This year that flew by, the one where we just communed with Saguaro, just celebrated Junior’s birthday and my parent’s turning 80, just recovered from a sweltering summer, just taught that Minestrone & Breadsticks class, just put the last of the raspberries and green beans into the freezer. All the events intermixed with morning espresso & evening dishwashing, loads of laundry & hours at an office, park days & play dates & projects; mixed together as one yet still distinct, colors intact not blended. Stopping for a moment to reflect may be cliché but I think it’s the best part of being alive.
I am grateful for Spouse and Junior. The life we live is simple and silly, but not necessarily easy. Over and over I get the chance to extend grace to these people I live with, but usually not before getting really mad. I am continually challenged and stretched as I work to be The Mom I Want to Be, as I work to be aware when I fall short, so I can reconnect with the best gift I was ever given. This gift, this person who is as tall as me, who is loving & kind, who is getting ready for life’s next big leap. Gah! I’m overwhelmed-again.
I am grateful for our space, this place we call home. I am grateful for our families, people we get to see often, people who also help with life lessons. These people who have known us longer than anyone else. The people who are our reason. I am grateful for our friends, little gems plopped onto our path, making life rich. I am grateful for our jobs, that Spouse is willing to give so much time to his, that mine can shape shift around the rest of life, grateful for the people we work with-some easy connections, some not. I am grateful for all that is familiar and cozy and warm.
There will be new here in the coming year. Junior will get taller, projects will get done. The kitchen should get a bit bigger. People in that kitchen will cook or bake things they never have before. There is the potential new that is entirely unknown. We can’t see around corners or very far down the road. Really, we can’t see further than our next footfall. This is scary. Will there be new that’s hard or crushing? Will there be loss or pain? There may be. Sometimes I want to insulate myself from that sort of new-keep my head down, keep my heart wrapped. In order to live, though, I have to allow myself to feel: joy is only joy when there is sorrow.
So, beginning tomorrow we will have dinners, play games, watch movies, celebrate lives & love. We will vacuum floors, hang laundry, grow plants, tend chickens, mow lawns, throw footballs. We will laugh. We will fight. We will connect. May this coming year be the one where we all lived our lives, fully open, fully aware, fully light. Blessings and grace to you.
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