I’ve been spending these past few weeks rereading many of my own old blog posts. In March, My Jenn-eration will be ten years old. I rarely stick with anything. That isn’t a criticism of myself but more just a fact. I drift from one thing to the next but here I stayed, I lingered and reflected on a particular chapter of my life. If I hadn’t written it down as I did, I’m not sure I would have remembered any of it, the way my grief for my mother felt early on, or the way that sleep deprived, bone deep love of early motherhood took hold of me. All of it, was such a jumble of all the things. I was so deep in the living it that if I hadn’t taken a moment to just step back, well I’m not sure I would be able to recall any of it.
In the life I lead now, in the way I love a parent with Alzheimers, I wonder how much any of that matters. If in the living of this thing, does it matter as much specifically whether or not we recall any of it? The moments happened whether we get to travel back to them or not. That would have been true here as well. Nonetheless, the blog offers me an extra peak back in time I otherwise would not have.
When you travel back, you are afforded the opportunity to notice patterns in your life you might not have noticed when you were living them. In this case, I can tell you that my new years posts for 2017, 2018, and 2019 were all about grief. 2020 was just, well, weird. And anyhow, here we are. We’ve arrived at the very last day of 2021 - the precipice of another new beginning and I am determined to start from a place other than grief.
This year, I want to talk about life.
The pandemic has completely reshaped the way I think about what makes a whole life. And when I look back at my year in photos and memories, it is clear that the biggest moments of this year might have been thought of as small or inconsequential in any other. But the gift of these past 21 months or so, is that more than I ever I hold on laser tight to every small victory. Every chance to gather with my people, every sunset, every great piece of birthday cake, or perfectly crisp fall day, every single one was the best day ever. I am absolutely filled with gratitude for all of it.
In Katherine May’s extraordinary literary achievement that all of you should read entitled Wintering, she writes, “Once we stop wishing it were summer, winter can be a glorious season in which the world takes on a sparse beauty.” May also writes, “Wintering is a moment of intuition, our true needs felt keenly as a knife.”
So here in the sparse beauty of this literal and metaphorical winter of our lives, I feel small and raw and keenly aware of what I need: family, friends, and a chance to get outside as often as I can. Those were the best parts of this year, they are the best parts of me, the smallest and simplest celebrations of us. So here it is - my brief look back in photos of 2021. The peak in the rearview mirror reminds me that though I don’t know what is coming, I know what counts.
In January we welcomed a new President and this girl turned seven.
In February it snowed a lot which seemed magical and lovely. There was many sledding trips. We celebrated a 50th birthday and after many months of window visits, we finally got to hug this guy in person again.
In March, the daffodils arrived and so did Ruby's milkshake maker. We took many many walks and got to finally reunite with Phil's mom. It was joyous.
In April we rented a house in Cape May, NJ and spent hours on a front porch in rocking chairs. We were the only ones a beach that looked like this. I have never felt so small and happy. The water was the color of sadness but I actually didn't feel that way. The colors of us popped and danced in contrast on the sand.
The house we stayed in was old and strange and filled with weird rooms which was perfect because we are unapologetically weird. This weird little space that was pretending to be an Irish pub was my favorite.
In May it was Dad's birthday and his first time going anywhere in 15 months. Dogs, kids, cake, a sunny day. Mother's Day in Collinsville, a vaccine for Dylan, long overdue in person lunch with friends I hadn't seen in how long had it been? Too long. Gratitude gratitude gratitude.
In June everyone graduated from everything. It was father's day and last day of school. After seven months we gathered together for a pool party to celebrate Dylan's bar mitzvah last November. It was wet and appropriately silly. It was great.
It was July and Phil and I went back to NYC to celebrate our 15th anniversary and made a pilgrimage to our first apartment together. There were trips to the lake and one to the beach with friends where we stuck our toes in the sand and did nothing at all but enjoy each other and the sun and the waves and that was lovely. We picked blueberries and went back to the beach. We got on our first plane in two years and went to see my sister. So much gratitude.
We started August in Hawaii. It is truly the most beautiful place on earth. We gawked at the sunsets and drank pineapple juice until we turned into actual pineapples. We went home and gawked at CT sunsets. There were lemonade stands and waffle makers and mini golf and beach and then pool followed by more beach and more pool. There was sand everywhere. I loved it.
September came and everything began again. We celebrated Rosh Hoshana in the park in lawn chairs and it was glorious. Everyone started a new school year and I turned 44. We celebrated the conclusion of a year's worth of torah readings on Simchat Torah with the congregation working together to unroll the scroll in the parking lot so that we could celebrate safely. Darkness fell and Dylan read his section by flashlight and that was so cool.
October came and Octobered it up. Pumpkins, perfect fall days, hayrides, apple cider and apple cider donuts. Corn hole which is honestly only fun on perfectly fall days. Halloween and ALL the candy.
November swept in and braces came off for some and on for others. The Pinewood Derby and Phil and I made our return to the theater to see Rent again because you can never see Rent too many times. More hikes and walks, the girls got their own rooms, Thanksgiving, and the last two in our family got their vaccines. Gratitude doesn't even cover it.
It was December and everyone had all the birthdays. There was Hanukkah, our return to the Wadsworth and the Festival of Trees, sledding hot cocoa, hugs and movies under blankets. If being cozy were an olympic sport I would gold medal in this. We attended our first school concert in two years. It was remarkable. Did we ever take this for granted? What a thing to hear our children perform such beautiful music together.
So was it all this good and joyous? No, of course not. But that's the gift of these days. We get to choose what we remember. To be honest I'm not as grateful for the remembering of it all. Quite candidly, more than ever I am aware that the remembering of it is something that can be taken from me at will. But I'm grateful for the reminder of how precious the remarkable un remarkableness of all of this living is.
I wish you a season and year of the same. Happy New Year friends.
Comments
Post a Comment