Themes: 2018-2022
An End-Of Year Reflection on Themes
Maybe you won't be surprised when I tell you how I tend to avoid or ignore as much as I can most New Year’s traditions. Although it feels comforting to surround myself with our Christmas trimmings, it doesn’t yet feel anywhere near okay to anticipate reenacting the last few hours of the life I understood. Not with the whole world counting down to within three hours of my worst memory. It seems better to live December 31 and January 1 as just two of 365 days on the calendar, nothing special.
That said, I’m not immune to year-end reflections. Perhaps it can’t be helped with my birthday, the end of the year and the anniversary of the other thing all occurring within the same two-week period.
As an aspiring author, I’ve been taught to think about themes. Here are the themes I would assign to each of the past five years.
2018: Dreams really were coming true.
Clearing out, packing, planning. Last time dealing with leaves, pine needles, long winters and snow (great!). Last time for the traditional holiday gatherings with New York friends and family (bittersweet). We announced our new address on Tybee in our Christmas cards, even though we weren’t moving until sometime after New Year’s. This morning I read announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh. Well, I prefer to think a loving God doesn’t laugh at people, but you get the gist.
2019: What the f***?
That was pretty much my only semi-coherent thought and what I yelled at the ceiling every day while everyone was telling me how strong and resilient I was. I guess I did “accomplish” a lot of things, none of which were ever on any to-do or wish list (including moving to Ballston Lake instead of Tybee), and I was grateful for all the help, support and love I received. But what pervaded my entire being was either “WTF happened?” or “WTF am I supposed to do now?” Or sometimes just "WTF" in ALL CAPS and very large font.
2020: OK, James, I’m sick of your being dead. You can come back any time now!
Obviously, I was aware the new thing I found myself yelling at the ceiling was completely irrational, but please remember I was living in near solitary confinement most of the time thanks to the pandemic, with severely deteriorating hips and mobility, providing hospice care to a hound with diagnosed canine cognitive dysfunction (Grania, who crossed the bridge that year, two days before one of my best friends died from cancer), and living with another aging, but still healthy hound (Tristan) whose needs I couldn’t fully meet under the aforementioned circumstances. Besides, neither love nor grief are rational.
2021: Now what?
With Grania at peace, vaccines and two brand-new titanium hips, I was a little more capable of rational thought but still had some big questions. With the future looking less like a black hole and feeling less like I was standing at the top of a bottomless cliff, what exactly was I supposed to do? What version of life was I supposed to live? How was I meant to help others? Tristan declined quickly, crossed the bridge, and I took my first November Florida/Georgia road trip. It felt like breaking out of jail and was good to reunite and spend time with people I’d been missing.
2022: Limbo (def: “indeterminate state”)
For the most part, I was either on Tybee -- loving it and wanting to be there as much as possible -- or in Ballston Lake teetering on the edge of selling the Tybee house. Met some new friends, had some new experiences, had more friend reunions. Mostly a good year – not much raging at the ceiling anymore -- but throughout the year my internal vibe has still been a sense of uncertainty, a feeling of being unsettled or of waiting for something but not knowing what. Having three temporary dogs (aka foster dogs) may have contributed to that vibe. I loved all three, it was a very fulfilling thing to do and I will do it again. Perhaps I just need to also have one who stays.