I didn't snuggle with my niece and nephew on Christmas Eve or kiss mom the next morning.
I didn't finish the commercial novel I had been commissioned to write.
I didn't make any "Best of Books" lists (but did read one from Oprah's List).
I didn't lose the weight.
I didn't find him. But, I did learn how to crawl out of the darkness that engulfed us this year, because I did find HIM. Or he found me. He showed up as two Bufflehead ducks I could see swimming outside my window. He serenaded me with soundtracks that soothed me through the ever long fright night of the California fires, coronavirus, our presidential election and a solitary Christmas. He spoke through loyal friends who made me laugh. He let me collaborate on some projects that did come to proud fruition. He helped me march for what matters and encourage others through donations and send almost 100 Christmas and unseasonal post cards just to say hello.
Glennon Doyle calls life "brutiful." And this year has certainly been one of the brutifullest. But, I will raise a glass of cidery Kombucha to toast that your 2021, and mine, abounds in hope to ease the heartache and strength to continue putting one foot in front of the other--whether it's a walk, a run or a crawl--and we never stop singing and dancing in the rain. Now, back to writing, come what may ...