I’m bucking the trend for year-end reflection, here. Reader, this ain’t no retrospective.
I’m feeling purposeful:
- I’ve dealt with the ironing pile (small, but, oh, how I hate those cotton shirts that cling to their wrinkles…)
- I’m resisting the urge for a wardrobe purge (far too depressing)
- I’m feeling smug in the way that teetotallers/designated drivers can, on New Year’s Day :)
- I’m planning on this being a speedier-than-normal blog write, as I’ve not had any lunch yet
- I might even clean another kitchen cupboard (not the one with out-dated baking products, and packets of bread sauce mix I couldn’t find on Christmas Day 2014 – that box has been ticked already)
I’m not about to make any New Year resolutions, either. Instead, I’m hoping (or wishing – or both) that 2016 will be the year in which:
- my hubby gets better from the injuries resulting from an RTA two years ago – or receives treatment/surgery/alternative therapy to alleviate symptoms/pain and improve his mobility – or at least is able to better control his pain level with drugs. This wish comes a post script: that we get out and about more, together.
- the world I am leaving for my grandchildren will become a safer, more harmonious and caring place where people put aside their petty differences (and that includes inter-party and party-specific political argy-bargy – on which I have maintained a steadfast silence on social media – I want no part of it), misguided beliefs and greed for power and material wealth
- I shake off the self-doubt that means I waste so much of my available time for writing, resorting more and more to the fail-safes of reading and social media
- I look even harder for the chinks of light and let the passage of time take care of the dark days
I’m longing for my too-late-to-call-it-lunch, now!
I wish you all health, peace and happiness for 2016 – whatever that means for you, however you set about achieving this for yourself and your loved ones, and whoever you choose to spend the wealth of these intangibles with.
I’ll leave you with some lines of Emily Dickinson:
“Hope” is thing with feathers
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all-
You can read the whole poem (314) here.