Letter 20

Year-end pause

Dear Reader,

Hope this finds you in a few moments for yourself. You are catching up on emailing, perhaps. Sitting down to coffee? Waiting in a car to go in to somewhere? 

I have been wondering what kind of theme to use for this letter, the last one of 2023. Seems like it could go many different directions as one of my favorite holidays (Winter Solstice) is later this week. It’s also a transitory time for a lot of people, going from one year to the next. I will explore the “becoming” that is happening in a later letter. We are currently a family in flux when it comes to what next year holds. 

For today, though, I want to be still for a just a while. Unfortunately, my mind is rarely still unless my body is busily hiking, climbing, running or doing something that pulls all the blood downward. So let’s feed the mind well.

Our real tree is a bit more crooked this year but it works for me.

My schedule has slowed somewhat this week and I have been thinking of some of the more brighter moments that make me feel good. I remember one boy at my high school who spent the mornings in the gym as he had limited mobility. I found his morning spot one day when I needed to get away from some sort of assumed teenage angst that prompted me to want to flee. I never skipped school (actual class, the books, the questions to ask, the science teachers who made things interesting, these I looked forward to), so instead I might spend time walking the halls in the morning, finding a corner here, a quiet spot there, as a refuge. I would join my new friend in the gym every so often. I don’t even remember what we talked about but it was always nice to see him.

I have thought about him this past week and hope he is doing well and still bringing his friendliness to the world. I also am thinking of a moment this fall when a band played in the parking lot of my kids’ school as part of a community barbecue contest. A soft rain had been falling for the last half hour and most people were chatting and drinking beneath the tents once the storm seemed set in, But about 10 of us remained. We soaked up the 80s cover band, twirling to The Cure, bouncing to Dexy’s Midnight Runners and swaying our lifted arms to the underscored last song, appropriately Prince’s “Purple Rain,” our hair damp with the mist, our eye lashes dripping. At least one of us was sober, but maybe not many of the others. It didn’t matter. I remember thinking: these are my people - this mismatch group, some from the surrounding neighborhood, a few other parents, most I didn’t know by name, clearly from different backgrounds - these are the people who I would have seen at a Music Festival. Who might have returned a smile of excitement and yelled along when a favorite song came on. 

Yesterday, I finally caught a friend on the phone (I know, the phone! Who talks on the phone anymore!). What I found is that hearing someone’s voice when they are joking or laughing makes me laugh (Thank you, Keith).

So my hope is that you can find time to be, to perhaps just exist for a bit. And next year maybe break a few patterns and get closer to those moments that make you smile. 

Thank you for reading. 

Peace and warm wishes,

Traci