Farewell to the Year That None Of Us Wanted

Ah, yes, 2020.  As this year wanes, I'm sure I'm not the only one looking back on it for the lessons it holds and making plans to improve the year to come.

There were bright spots. 

Babies whose arrival brightened our lives and made us more determined to shape our world into a space where they could be safe and healthy.  A baby girl born on Leap Day and many discussions on how one celebrates birthdays.  A baby boy born to a couple who've been hoping for a decade.  A baby girl and the miracle of IVF. Each of them deserves clean air and fresh water, opportunity to learn and grow to their full abilities, ideals to live up to and a hopeful future.

A sparkly ring finger this December.  Because nothing could be better than knowing your child has found happiness and commitment in life and loving the one he chose.

Gratitude as I discovered the difference between need and want, between essential and optional. I realized how truly fortunate I am.  I value people more than acquisitions, simple pleasures more than elaborate plans.  Give me a needle and thread, seeds and sunshine, a neighbor's smile over the back fence. 

I've managed to foster some good habits.  Planning a dinner menu is now something I anticipate rather than a chore to dread.  I have my composting system dialed in.  I wake up to a kitchen with all the pots and pans cleaned and put away.  I have finished many a long-term project.  I am less a procrastinator and more a planner.

Gratitude, again, that I've spent a lifetime acquiring some very useful skills.  I can cut hair, cook from scratch, bake with confidence, sew cute and well-fitting masks for family and friends, grow a productive garden, give a good massage, mend and make alterations fearlessly, triage medical conditions, paint birthday cards, raise healthy hens, build a chicken coop, read for pleasure and escape as well as to learn and grow, tackle any frustrating internet app until it has bent to my will and also let science be my guide in confusing times. To these, I've added the ability to French braid my own hair, make a reliable loaf of sourdough, and match my pajama selection to the sheet set of the week. This was a good year to be fairly self-sufficient.

 

I'm content to stay in my little home, with the love of my life and my heart dog, and dream of better days ahead while I strive to make our current life delight-full.

So, 2020 might not have been the year I was looking forward to, filled with family and friends and all the cherished yearly events and holidays.  I can't change the past but I can foster the future.

A happy new year to us, each and every one. Stay safe, stay healthy, stay positive, stay kind. Be thoughtful, be open, be critical, be idealistic.

Guidepost Number 110

You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream. 

~ C.S. Lewis

I've happily tied shoes, modified pencil grips, encouraged phonetic spelling, zipped jackets, dried tears, taught playground games and generally enjoyed myself for fifteen years in kindergarten.  That all came crashing to a halt last week when I learned that our district is eliminating all kindergarten aide positions.
 
Hence the quote to get me thinking about what my next adventure is going to be.  It'll be hard to find something I love as much as I love my kindergarteners, their parents, and the teachers I work with.  But I'm confident that something wonderful is just around the corner!

Stay shiny,
 

Twenty-three

What do you say when someone so young dies?  I don't know how to even begin. 

I know that my life was barely beginning at twenty-three.  I said "I do" and moved away from home with lots of hopes and dreams.  Little did I know how young I was and how much of life was still to be experienced.

I keep thinking "Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May" and I suspect Frankie is looking down on me shaking his head in disbelief at my inappropriate quote for somebody who was six foot five, athletic and outdoorsy, and never considered gathering a rosebud in his life.  But there are so just so many things that he will never get to do.

Still, he knew what it was like to have two loving and supportive parents.  He was expert at sibling rivalry as well as intense family loyalty.  He knew laughter and enjoyed sports.  He experienced the satisfaction of a career where he was well-liked. He was still finding his way, still learning about relationships and choices, but he was on a good trajectory. 

There are worse epitaphs. 

Guideposts - Week Four

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.
 

--His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

A co-worker of my sweetie's died in an avalanche last week.  (Death seems to be a recurring theme for us in the past two months.) Younger than us, possessed of a megawatt smile and personality, owner of a dog-clone of our late aussie shepherd, avid skier.  My heart goes out to his family left behind.  

There was a lot of public comment on that very experienced group "recklessly" skiing when the avalanche danger was high.    It's easy to judge whether you do or don't know all the facts.  Sadly, most of the comments were negative and unkind, calling it suicidal, complaining about what the rescue must have cost the taxpayers, at best remarking on stupid choices people make.  None of those people knew Ricardo.  None cared that their rants might would cause the survivors heartache.

I had thought of choosing a new quote about kindness for this week's guidepost, but I realized that compassion alone should have tempered the remarks aired in the public forum.  Rather than anger or sorrow, I feel compassion for those individuals who obviously lack it.  None of us get out of life alive.  And few of us choose to believe that.  What we have between birth and death is the ability to love and live and make the world a little better than we found it.  Some of us die at 5, at 15, at 51, at 105...our age doesn't matter.  What matters are the memories we've created.  

Ricardo brightened up his corner of the universe before he departed to a different existence.  Requiem in pacem.