December, for me, has become a month to survive. Too many birthdays and the holiday hoopla make me want to crawl in a hole. This year was better than most. Working less is good, and my birthday was just what I asked for. Nicole left for Air Force basic training before her shared birthday with her dad, cutting short the usual "Will we see her? Will we not?" angst, and Steve's birthday ... a BIG one ... was a fun celebration with a superman theme and a present for each of his 50 years. It was (proverbially speaking) better than Christmas! Nicole's departure left us with mixed emotions of hope and fear. Amazingly she left the same day that Westi finished college. Devoid of ceremony, it was a momentous day cloaked in the guise of just another Tuesday. Christmas was sweet and easy, the highlight of which was waking up Christmas morning with Westi and Michael here.
But all that is past now, and I am excited by the words of T.S. Eliot:
“For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.”
I feel ready to learn a new language, and to speak it in a new year. Promise and potential abound. last diary entry