This snowy morning I am counting down to 2021 and a reset. In past years this has been the time to look forward to challenges, opportunities and wishes for the coming year. I make lists and often assign some sort of priority. This year, though, feels different. It feels more like an opportunity for reflection than ever before.
Nine months of quarantine have given me a gift of time. Having lived my entire life wishing for just a few more hours in the day or weeks in a month, I was unprepared for a calendar that stared back at me with more open spots than entries. All those years of rationalizing my hectic schedule were gone. My first inclination was to fill them, make it look like I was still busy. If I had obligations, then I must have value or better yet, purpose.
This is where the reflection comes in. It was time to deal with myself. What did I want to do next? Another book? More quilting? A new language? A new keyboard? All stared at me from the 1st page of my brand new journal. My wants for the coming year are broader: time when I can see and hug my family again; making every minute I have with my husband meaningful; savoring that special time of telling stories to myself and then finding them on the page to share with others; building tight connections with those people in my life who have given me so much of who I am.
This is more of a quiet unraveling. I’m not sure where this deeper reflection will lead, but I am grateful for the journey. Time is my treasure to be used with reverence. Perhaps because I am at the end of my life, this process feels more exceptional. While we can’t change much of what lies before us, we can explore the treasures life hands us. For me, one treasure has been time.
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