::
On the last day of 2011
I’m not at all sure what it means
when you find a burned out sign
on a telephone pole.
::
And I’m even less sure what it means
when there is an eleven on that pole.
::
I am, however,
perfectly ready and willing
to find out.
::
Here’s to endings
and beginnings,
here’s to you,
and here’s to
looking forward
to the journey
of 2012.
::
Happy New Year.
::
xoxo
::
Write a letter to yourself about how you would like your life to be
different at this time next year.
::
savor every first sip.
::
::
Take today to jot down five memories that
you would like to never forget about 2011
::
one.
two days after george died, i walked outside looking for his naughty kitten brother, late, in the dark. i picked a pink flower from the cosmo plant standing tall in the night and made my way down the driveway to the spot where we found him. i found it easily, although i could see nothing. the stone we placed as his marker somehow reflected just enough light to guide me to it. i stood there, crying in the black warmth that is a july night and bent down to place a single bloom on the darkest spot, the stain of his blood. i stood there and let the breeze play over my bare legs, listening. holding my breath. hoping. of course, he was not there, and i do not believe in ghosts. when i turned to go back inside, there were fireflies everywhere, dancing in the darkness like stars.
two.
i ran the uphill half of my path and it was a good run, i felt strong and sated, alive and oh so happy to be running again. it was a warm day, warmer than it should have been in autumn, but those have always been my favorite running conditions, and this day was almost perfect. no one else was on the path, it was me and the trees and the sun and the rhythmic sound of my own breath filled my head with a meditative calm. dappled shade, bright light, dappled shade, the pattern of my steps, the counting off of miles, the sweat that glistened as it washed away the stress. when i stopped to cool down and walk the last half mile, i heard a bird call that i recognized somewhere in the recesses of my mind, but at first, could not exactly place. And then i saw one, and then another, and then a flock. cedar waxwings, perched on branches like so many leaves. i kept walking quietly, smiling loudly.
three.
an august afternoon in which i played hooky, sneaking out to sit in the sun with a book and a glass of wine, a journal and a pencil, words flying off my fingers like sparks. then sitting quietly, the sun on my face, birds chirping in the background, red-winged blackbirds especially, complaining of my presence. hot, hot sun, flowers everywhere, bugs and beetles and dragonflies buzzing all around, bare feet and the trickle of sweat. time hung in the air with nowhere to go, no place to be but there, in that moment, absorbing light and sound and heat and just a tiny bit of memory from carefree childhood summers.
four.
a winter that would not end, hibernation becoming stir-crazy, cabin fever becoming nothing but the desire to feel the sun upon my skin. darkness that became too dark, all promises of light, broken. snow that piled on top of snow, no longer pretty and glittery and wondrous, just heavy and grey. grey on grey on grey. endless days of grey. days that turned to weeks and then months. the lack of contrast is what drives you mad.
five.
an almost invisible shift in the night. hours spent with eyes wide open, the moon rap-tapping on dirty panes, a signal to the loneliness that is driven by insomnia. sighs and repositioning, sighs and thoughts of getting out of bed to do something, anything, at least write. imaginary whispers that say nothing, but keep me straining to hear. words that walk their way down empty hallways, peeking through keyholes, checking for just the right fit. this room is filled with sounds of love. this room is filled with heartbeats and the echoes of sobs. this room has stories of its own to tell. this room is more awake than i am.
::
:
::
Everything is going to be okay.
What is one thing, a sign if you will, that has shown you
that things will be just fine in 2012?
::
there will be first sips of tea each morning
birds will sing because they can
time will win another round
but when it tries to sucker punch me (again)
i will duck and smile
there will be books that transport me to places unknown
socks to sort and papers to file
somewhere, babies will be smiling
and discovering their toes
loss will settle in and wait to take its turn
tears will map out new courses on old cheeks
giggles will become guffaws
sniffles will become colds
pain will become scars
basements will flood and faucets will drip
the mockingbird will pretend
and i will let him make me believe
(again)
i will run my way to a place i’ve never been
words will be written that mean everything and nothing
trees will blossom and leaves will fall
seeds will form
hands will be held
the moon will call my name
i will open my eyes on new wonders
every day
::
:
::
Name one gift that 2011 gave you; what treasure
came your way gift wrapped in experience?
::
among other things,
there was this:
venus, the moon,
and a husband
who knows
how much
i would love
to see them.
::
::
If you could quit your day job and your quality of life
wouldn’t change, what would you do?
::
write.
grow.
blossom.
:::
:
::
What did you believe in this year?
::
i believe
in smiles and broken hearts
in dancing in the moon circus
in hope
in today
in walking the path less traveled
in forgiveness
that i know nothing
in love
in summer and tomatoes
in silence
that mountains make me whole
in death
that my garden feeds my soul
that writing feeds my soul
that not all empty spaces are meant to be filled
in looking to the sky
that someday i will soar
there is never enough, there is always too much
normal is just a notion
kindness is the cornerstone of love
you have to pay attention
i prefer questions to answers
in pushing the limits
hemingway is still my favorite writer
hugs are free and also invaluable
life is not supposed to be easy, it’s supposed to be lived
i need to stand up and be counted
i occasionally suffer from wiggly spirit
i am surrounded by heroes
that i will always miss george
i will never love mirrors
love doesn’t have to be perfect to survive
my parents are the best
there is both more and less time than you think
i’m a romantic at heart, an idealist by nature
and a purist by design
except sometimes i’m not any of those things
and sometimes i am their opposites
some days are red, some days are blue
and
i believe that being alive is a gift
i believe that being grateful for every breath you take
is the only way to say thank you
i believe in so much and so little, all at once.
::
::
::
::
What kind of a friend do you want to be in 2012?
::
i could be
a better friend
to almost
everyone
i know.
::
tonight,
i’m going to
sit by this fire
and be a better
friend
to myself.
:::
the day you swept my heart out to sea
the sun hung in the sky like a beacon
always the point i could not reach.
.
i swam through a safety net full of
holes as sharks bruised my legs
but left me to my misery.
.
salt water tears mingled with
fresh water expectations and
kept me afloat despite my desire
to sink
into the depths of disillusion.
.
years later, a raft floated by.
:
i could have reached out and
hoisted myself onto
that sparse, dry bed but
instead, i closed my eyes,
bobbing, skating, skimming
the surface of my
sanctuary.
::
::
