Well. I do know why not. Because life happens in ways we cannot predict. I know now better than ever that any resolution I made on the eve of 2017 or 2018 would be miniscule in the face of the resolve I would have to muster to just exist.
I was grumpy last night. Out of sorts. I'm struggling to transition from Red Alert to hopeful.
The wind howled.
I'd put some of Christmas away yesterday, and it sat in bins on the back porch just outside the bedroom. I wondered if I'd snapped the lids, or if three generations of ornaments and ephemera would be flying through the field behind our house.
I'd remarked earlier how we'd spent last New Year's Eve in the apartment beneath elephants wearing cement shoes. We thought we were safe as we nestled asleep by ten. Only to be awakened when the bars closed and the elephants came home and trumpeted through the night and almost up until our doctor's appointment at 8 am.
I thought this year would be different. On so many levels.
But the wind howled.
Someone suggested yesterday, as I closed the year with an afternoon yoga class, that we not spend our last hours of 2018 pressing early into 2019, but that we look back over the year and acknowledge our accomplishments.
I survived?
I listed my accomplishments over dinner, but they came out more as frantic arm waving.
How does one quantify the accomplishment of spending the greater part of two years in a hell not of one's own making? And surviving.
I'm so shortsighted as a person though.
There just didn't seem to be enough time in December. I had it planned one way, and then some things came up and I spent a great deal of time doing things I did not expect to be doing. You'd think after 18 months being on the crazy roller coaster schedule we have been on that I'd roll with it. But, I spent most of December feeling a frenzy. Feeling like I couldn't do it all. Feeling defeated. When will I learn that life is all the days before and all the days after that one moment? I would tease people when they'd ask how are you in the thick of our crisis. "Living the dream," I'd say, Dominic in a hospital bed and me heartbroken for him. It was a sarcastic stab at humor. But it was more than that. It was truth. He and I had had many happy moments before, and will have many to come. Things may be difficult, our struggle may be extra, but we're not limited to living in the worst of those difficult moments. Tomorrow is here.
A friend gave me daffodil bulbs. The first flowers of spring, I heard. They are my birthday flower. When I see the daffodil, I know both that spring is coming, and that I am older. But the daffodil is magic. I don't feel older. It doesn't bring with it the baggage of aging that humans have built an industry around resisting. It simply affirms to me that I exist. It speaks to me that there is beauty. There is spring. There is hope.
Wikipedia says the narcissus has conspicuous flowers.
If I must be conspicuous in anything, I should hope I could be as affirming and magical as a flower.
I'm sitting with my back pressed against the wall heater. Dominic is still sleeping, still mending. We're both on bridges right now. He's coming back to life. What has he accomplished in 2018? Basically, a life time. He reverted to a sort of infancy in the ravages of the disease and has fought his way back to standing on his own. It takes newborns several years to accomplish what he has in 5 months. He has walked down our little hill to the car and back to the house and uses only a cane in the house now. He's very hopeful for the year. He's eager to work and travel.
I'm not there yet.
Aside of the fact that I'm a home body, we were away from home nearly 6 months just this year, the idea of making plans, of being out and about scares me. I need stability to seep into my bones a little more. My accomplishment for 2019 will be steeping in goodness. There. I've blogged my way into an intention for the new year.
But how?
2019 came in like a lion. I lay awake wondering if the venerable oak trees book-ending our house would topple in on us. The wind howled and I could hear things crashing and banging outside. One thing that banged a lot is one of those curtain screens with magnets to hold it together. The magnets rhythmically hit the wall and I think one of the first things I will do in 2019 is get rid of it. I'd left it there through other storms thinking it would be of service in the summer. Perhaps I will get rid of it, and something better will appear at the right time. It will be the first of many things I will let go of to make room for what is to come.
I will continue to be grateful for all we've been given and all the love we've felt.
A friend suggested last night's winds are the winds of change.
I hope so.
I hope they have thoroughly cleared out anything that is keeping me from letting goodness seep into my bones. They have shown me I must make way for the new. Though the winds howled all night and stole my sleep, they left the gift of hope.
I am hopeful for us all this new year. Hopeful we will all find goodness to seep into our bones. Hopeful we will all make space for something better. Hopeful I can be part of the goodness in my own life and yours.
Happy new year to all far and wide.
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