After the super dark and dreary days of May, June, and July–and a repeat in the fall, things are pretty decent now. My health issues are smaller than the were and I’m taking some halting steps to regain a part of a normal life. In short, it’s better than I considered possible a few months ago.
There’s a part of me that says, “Yeah, baby, I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar.”
But another part says, “The last guy who said that got impaled by a harpoon, just after he said it.”
Put another way, I have a bottle of champagne on my counter awaiting December 31. My plan wasn’t to drink it at midnight to toast in the new year. I was going to drink it at, say, nine, to help wash away 2015.
Instead, maybe I’ll drink it to toast what was done to overcome obstacles in 2015. This year was hard, relative to previous years, for me, at least. (Though if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s not to assume that your hard is anything relative to others’.) This year strained me to limits I didn’t know possible, and other people along with me.
Yet here we are.
So I think I’ll drink to us, for being here. For the bruises we endured and the scars we now have as a result of the things that happened. I’ll look back on this year, not with relief, but with admiration for what was done, and the conditions that were endured.
And I’m not going to look forward with anything. That’s the lesson of Hoban Washburne. You can celebrate your greatest triumph, only to be impaled be reavers in the next instant. This past is what it is, and you have to find the good in it. The future is unpromised. So find something good and toast it now.
One good thing, #40
Sorry, but I have to do it. Firefly is a big fat barrel of fun.