I'd like to wish all a Happy New Year, and I do. But... all that has changed is the date. I'm still me-full of fortes and foibles. There are things I 'could' change and probably should. And probably will not. There are things I know I will not. Nor should I. Was 2022 the 'best' year ever? No. My brother died. I'm the last one sitting. I lost some friends. Others vanished into the ether and I have no clue why other than life is complicated and busy and and and and and. Was 2022 the 'worst' year ever? No. Despite the wars, the deaths, the idiots: there have been worse years. Good things happened and I remember them. It was a year: one of sixty-eight I've been here for. However. This year is the year size 12 was a celebration. This year I looked in the mirror (and yes, I saw my mother looking at me) and I smiled and saw myself. And smiled wider. This is the year I grew into me. Owned me. This is the year I let go of old stuff that really doesn't matter anymore: the stuff that kept me from forgiving, smiling, and flying as high as I can on wings strengthened by resolve, faith, guts, and glory. Resolutions? Just be my best me-- whatever that turns out to be. It will be enough. It will be good. It will be good enough. To look for the good, the happy, and the joyful for that is what carries us through. That is all that matters. This is what I wish for you all: Be your best you. |