One summer, on a trip to Chicago with my small children, I optimistically wore a hot pink graphic tee that read in silver glitter letters: The Joy is in the Journey.
What a mistake. The flight was a complete disaster, my kids misbehaved in ways I've conveniently forgotten, and it ended in me all but containing a seething yell across the airplane aisle: "Just you wait until we get off the plane!" My naughty children smirked, snickered even.
So, I don't set myself up for such epic failure. I don't emblazon inspirational sayings across my chest because life just isn't a party cruise. It smacks you down. Oddly, Ariana Grande's breathin is playing in the background right now.
But, I'm optimistic about 2019. Maybe because I feel good. Good, as in, life is an open book to me right now. I'm feeling energized and happy. Like I could accomplish just about anything I want to this year. Can one be happy? A counselor once told me that true happiness is impossible. Contentment was more like it. But, no, I'm happy.
Even though there are so many reasons not to be:
- the glaciers are melting at incredible rates
- plastic and micro-plastic are clogging our beaches and ocean
- my word count is still pretty sucky
- financial security is a myth
- hell, security of any sort is elusive and easily lost
- my dance card is empty (again. i'm open to dates, if you're available.)
But but but but. My unfinished books, they're calling. My travel plans, forming. My dreams (mostly about motorcycles) still keep me up at night. Let's see what 2019 will bring. C'mon, 2019, let's get sweaty.