I spent most of my day cleaning out the basement. Not exactly a relaxing activity for a holiday, but for my task oriented brain, it was the right thing to do. It's always difficult for me to clean and organize things (though I love the results) because things take on meaning and significance.
I'm not a pack rat or a collector, but when I go through a box and find a picture colored by my son when he was five or tiny pair of baby socks, I get sentimental. I don't need to keep everything, but after a while, the items start tugging on my emotions. "Remember when," they call to me.
It hasn't been an easy decade. I tend to be hard on myself, so I probably cannot objectively judge what I did and didn't accomplish in the past ten years. I do know I haven't yet reached specific goals and this weighs on me.
The rain pounds on the skylights. The sky is already black outside though it's just after five. I look forward to spring and possibility, a new year, a new decade, a new book. It most certainly can be better.
I would like to go through boxes ten years from now and have the "remember when" voice remind me of how much better everything has become. I would love to look back and laugh.
Happy New Year.