Happy (belated) New Year!!!
Forgive my absence! I wish I could tell you that so many things have been happening my life (well, ok, maybe that’s not ENTIRELY wrong) and that I’ve been kidnapped by a random group of cowboys looking to dodge the winter snows in the California drought…but if you would be gracious enough to spread that rumor, you’d forever be in my heart!
I have an idea for a new contest and I’d like to work out a few kinks before I officially announce it, so stay tuned! Little hint: it’s a very WORLDLY idea!
I think the reason why I’m really posting isn’t as much about writing as it is reconnecting. There have been a few major changes on our world stage and more than a few deaths of celebrities in this past week alone, never mind the past year.
Last year, I made mention that I was never a big fan of New Year’s. At least not in the way most people my age are. Most people my age (and even older) want to drink, party, scream (did THAT this year), set off fireworks, and go crazy one more time before going back to work. That has never been me. I have never enjoyed the revelry brewed at the bottom of a beer mug. Maybe it’s because I’m a picky eater and won’t put something in my system that even REMOTELY smells/tastes repugnant to me, but I never got into it.
That leaves me the sole survivor to walk the ruins of the bacchanalia bomb that goes off at midnight every January 1st.
When the debris and stray party poppers have been cleared, there is silence. There is blankness. There is stillness. And, for the first time in several days, I can hear myself think again.
When I see the world after New Year’s, I see a new beginning. If you listen closely underneath the snow, you can hear the life just beginning to stir–and if you pat it, maybe it’ll nudge you back. For those of us living in the south, the rain gives our land a chance to refill (and if the snow expected in parts of California deliver, maybe we’ll have a momentary reprieve from our drought). When the Christmas lights dim, the winter skies light up our nights. When the carols cease, the sound of our heart beating finally gets its solo. When we breathe the icy air, we can savor the silky strands our breath turns into.
The coldest time of year is usually the most hopeful for me. Because I know the first blossom is right around the corner.
Every new year is a blank page. What are we going to write?
Today is where your book begins…the rest is unwritten