I could get all philosophical and write about how the “gift” of solitude has made me more mindful of those who feel alone. Or I could share how the “gift” of losing one’s job has taught me perseverance and courage. Or I could even tell you how the “gift” of grief is really humility and compassion wrapped up in a box of denial and anger, tied with a bow of depression.
But blah. No thanks. I haven’t got the time or the energy for the ol’ brain to wax thoughtful. I’ve got things to get done/ready/planned/cleaned before the New Year. And really? Really, I just want to tell you about the new kicks I got for Christmas–navy blue Chuck Taylors from Frit. Love. Them.
I also received a canvas art print from my baby sister that says: Have faith in yourself and in the future. I cried (cuz I’m a weeper) when I opened it. It was just her and me Christmas morning, curled up on the couch next to the lit tree, with our meager offerings for one another. “I know you don’t right now, but I want you to believe that next year,” she said.
And so. Heading into the New Year, I’ve got a reminder on my wall and some brand new shoes to get me there.
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