And 2023 is upon us.
I have begun many blog posts this year, only to stop after a few paragraphs. I even wrote an explanation in one- "I haven't written on the blog in such a long time because the things that I have to say anymore seem redundant. The me that exists now is happy and contented and alone in only good and positive ways. Nick is replacing different flooring in my house, and Jenifer watches movies with me while he works, and we are who we were always meant to be."
The purpose of the blog is one of those things that I am unsure of- I know what it began as (a writing exercise for a young mom), and I know what it became (a sanctuary in a time of upheaval and change). But I just don't quite know what it means now, in the aftermath of all of that.
My word for 2022 was joy. It was a bit of a play on words, and a bit of a hope inside of a year that I had dreaded a bit. (Dreaded is such a strong word, but I just don't know another word for it.) It was a joyous and wonderful year, filled with blessings that I am grateful for.
And so we come to 2023. A year of sure upheaval as Betsy Anne settles on a college, and Felicity Kate turns 15 and at some point will be learning to drive. They are my whole heart. Watching them grow up is the greatest gift I've ever been given, and I continue to enjoy every last second, even the prickly teenage ones.
My word for 2023 is listen. For the bulk of this year I have imagined that it would be change and then two weeks ago listen came along and planted itself in my heart. It may just be me bucking the idea of change, which will of course come whether or not I claim it, but I feel pulled toward the idea of listening, and not talking as much, and being aware of what's around me. Taking in more music and more thoughts and more silence.
2023. All the best is yet to come.
