Here we are; another year. An unforgettable one at that. Townes was asked recently if his family celebrated New Years and he regurgitated the question to me with a furrowed eyebrow. “Do we?” And so began thinking through what it meant for us to celebrate New Years.
I decided that instead of crippling them with over-pressurized activities digging up memories and creating a crazy cycle of hay-wire expectations that fail on January 1, I asked everyone in the family to come up with:
- What did I do well this past year and I want to keep doing?
- What do I want to try to do more of? Or introduce myself to?
- What do I want to do less of?
The answers ranged from less coronavirus (Bess) to more pump tracks (Townes), to keep being cute (we collectively gave that to Sam), to gardening lordhelpusgardeninourRV (Guy).
Of all things that will mark 2020 (too many to count), let me take with me the healing reminder that writing, art, expression serves as a release for me. It gives moments hope, turns grey into formations of color, designs, shapes, births new life, offers trailheads and forks in the road to explore. Lets me step. Not just with the tedium that technically and mechanically puts one foot in front of the other, but let me seek, write, see, explore…finding scene after scene, a narrative to this journey that compels me to the horizon.