Last Day of the Year

It started with the loss of days. Days become weeks. I've lost a week. Maybe more. I suppose the time isn't lost...it's just expired. It has slowly, stealthy slipped away. Now here we are on the last day of 2017. At this point in the calendar, it's fair to say that whatever was left undone, unmet, unmended, untended will stay as such. The good and comforting thing is that 2018 presents itself as a blank slate. Unfortunately, we are not. We come with baggage. I always always overpack.

Every year at this time I choose a word for the next year, or a word chooses me. My word for last year was peace and there were many moments of beatitude and tranquility. I would have appreciated more, but the thing is that the word that speaks to me is something I want more of in my life. Thanks to Mick Jagger we all know that we can't always get what we want and only sometimes when we try do we get what we need. I try.

Words are incredibly powerful. They carry intentions, and therefore, immeasurable weight. They also connect, cut, elevate, alleviate, enlighten, disgrace, demean and mend. One of the first things we teach our children is to use their words, yet so often we misuse our own. We leave things unsaid, we say things we don't mean, we put our feet in our mouths, we lash out, we lie. 

My word for 2018 is courage. I really had no other choice. I'm going to need it as I forge ahead and figure things out at a time when I'm feeling vulnerable, porous and fragile. So peace is passing the baton to good old grit, and grit is gearing up for an exciting new year. Grit's the guy for the job.

Tonight we'll ring in the new year with friends. Friends who are more like family and thus, cherished. We have too much food, a signature cocktail and, of course, champagne, and games. It will be a good night. I'm wishing all of you who stop by here a good year. And thank you for reading my words because without you they wouldn't hold as much weight.