Dear 2011. . .
It’s less than an hour until you leave us. I have to say that you’ve been kinder than some of the other recent years. Yes, there were challenges and heartaches, but none that broke my heart as badly as 2009 or made me as anxious as 2010. I hope I learned your lessons so that I won’t have to repeat any classes in 2012. Yes, I will listen to my gut. It knows better and thinks more clearly than my mind or my heart. Yes, I will broaden my circle of friends so that my whole life isn’t centered around people that talk church all the time. Yes, I will try to lower my voice when dealing with ADHD, since you taught me that volume really does nothing but make my throat and heart hurt.
I’m spending these last fleeting moments with a frightened dog curled up by my side and a nervous cat across my legs, neither able to understand all the noise outside that has been blasting for hours now. I’m amazed that my youngest children are actually sleeping.
I’m missing my standard New Year’s Eve companion, the faithful old movie You’ve Got Mail. No matter how many times I see it, I always get excited that they finally get together after all those missteps. (Classic line: “I wanted it to be you!”) I have to say that without Tom and Meg to keep me distracted, I’m feeling a bit lonely. This is, you know, the loneliest holiday of the year for me. Valentine’s Day – that’s all hype. Birthdays – no big deal. Fourth of July – that’s great with friends. Thanksgiving – it’s all about family. Christmas – well, that one is tough too, but it’s okay when I focus on the kids. New Year’s? Well dang. Everyone should be able to start off a New Year with someone special at your side! I can’t even remember the last time that has happened!
But that’s okay. I’ll be thankful for all I do have and all I might have one day. I’ll think about things I hope to accomplish in 2012, but I won’t make any resolutions. (That’s a sure way to make sure they will never happen!) I’ll look again at my list of possible words for One Word 2012 and make my final decision. (Your word was “courage.” It served me well this year.) I’ll go downstairs and make a mug of hot chocolate and watch the ball drop. Then I guess it’s me and John Grisham until my oldest gets home.
Thanks for all your gifts, all your lessons, all your surprises, and all your accomplishments. Thanks for all the people you brought into my life – some for the first time and some again. Thanks for giving me the tools I need to start this next journey around the sun. I’ll remember you fondly.