I’m not waiting until the end of the year to talk about the year. Why wait when there’s so much good stuff just swirling around us; ash from the stream of deadly fires in California, to September snow in Colorado, record heat in Arizona and New Mexico, hurricanes, earthquakes, locusts, plague, and of course, Covid-19. Let’s talk about the senseless killings of unarmed black men and the rampant militarization of the police across the nation, unchecked. Who would check them? The same people funding them? Wait, there’s more. We have politicians who can’t tell a respirator from a golf club and even more politicians who have learned how to fight and forgotten how to compromise. This year is a disaster. Literally.
It’s always at this time of year that I take stock of myself. What have I done in the previous 12 months? What have I accomplished and what do I want to accomplish? It’s time to mind map my goals into something. I am working on something big for next year, which is still under wraps. That said, I have to wonder what kind of curve balls are we all going to get in the next 12 months? Seems in stark contrast to what I just wrote, doesn’t it? It feels like it. The year has been a series of ups and downs, in the extreme. Why would now be any different?
I had a resolve to discuss those things for which I am grateful. Instead of doing it on Thanksgiving, I wanted to do it between now and the end of the year, which is Solstice for me. So, one month of gratitude, coming up. If I’m going to take stock, I might as well do it publically and hold myself accountable, eh?
I am grateful for my partner in life, Doyle. First and foremost, I am grateful that for nearly ten months he has put up with me, day in, day out, never once complaining or needing to get away. He’s put up with the crazy food, crazy hair, and whining about my trials at work. He’s learned how to cook some things, does the laundry, and basically takes care of the things that need doing. That’s what he does. He just does it. He does it because it needs to be done. He loves seeing his work appreciated and he loves appreciating his own handiwork. He has taught me to stop and smell my proverbial roses, enjoy the view, and take in the accomplishments. He lets me be me. Yet, he’s an anchor when I need him to be. Sometimes he’s the oars. Sometimes, he’s the whole damn boat. So, for today, I am grateful for Doyle. Slackbear. Bread taster. Wine drinker. Builder. Confidant. The other half of me.