It is now a few minutes past midnight and it’s December and we can finally meet the last thirty-one days belonging to 2020.
Today, my dad’s obituary appeared in the paper and online. Reading an obituary always seems to make a loved one’s death feel so damn final; real and inescapable. However, one of the greatest life lessons Dad provided me was how to step up to the plate to love a child that is not biologically yours.
The snow looks beautiful tonight and there’s a peaceful glow up and down Shroyer Road.
2020. I’ve been exceptionally fortunate and blessed. The positives, for me, truly outweigh the negatives. What could have been negative I determined to make positive. I refuse to mourn the redirection of routine and allow myself to feel cheated. So many have lost so much they can never recover.
When December arrives, I always find myself more reflective, remembering the previous eleven months.
Sometimes, that can be a deterrent, a detour.
Perhaps I should, instead, use the remaining thirty-one days to look forward to the upcoming twelve months, seeking new adventures, setting new goals, and deciding how to be a larger, more affective ripple in the pool of life.
I can make a splash.
I can swim.
Thirty-one days of looking ahead.
I’ve got this.