Dear Everyone,
Man, it just kept going, huh.
It's not hard to understand the roaring '20s now. A whole lot of lockdown and fear finally lets up, and that energy’s gotta go somewhere. So let's all invent jazz music and make out with each other and write books about sad rich people!!
It's been a lot, is what I'm getting at. Nearly two years, and it's all still going.
On the other hand, look how far we've come.
We've traveled over bumpy and uneven ground, to be sure. But it's a hike, and I know how to hike. Here are the basics: Keep your base weight light, take care of your feet, stay hydrated, and don't poop too close to water. Embrace the whole thing, whether it's downhill or up, when you're sleeping and when it sucks. The trail is sometimes boring and sometimes almost too hard to take, but it eventually leads somewhere with a view. Just embrace it all and keep going.
And we have, through ER visits and interminable doctor follow-ups and work crises and children struggling to deal with new challenges and changes. We've held hands and kept going no matter the terrain. And there's no one I'd rather do this hike with. Jennifer's the best trekking partner I ever had, bar none. The kids struggle a bit, but then they haven't spent that much time on the trail. Part of it is getting to teach them how to do more than survive it, to love it for what it is, gorgeous views and exhaustion, all of it. They're pushing back some, as any sane newcomer would, but they're getting the hang of it day by day. Seeing that gives me some peace.
As I write this, what I'm remembering most from this year is a literal hike, a "short" 8-mile out-and-back that was my first time setting foot on the Appalachian Trail. It was part of a 50th birthday trip for Jennifer (what the hell happened there, I ask you), and when we got to the lookout at the turnaround point, the hikers there all sang "Happy Birthday to You" like we were all having cake in someone's kitchen.
Total strangers all, but travelers like us through a time of exhaustion and confusion and fear and death and loss, hunkered down on a big rock in the sun and singing to my wife. If that isn't fuel to keep going, I don't know what is.
Because if all this is going to keep going, then I'll be damned if I'm not going to keep going too. Not to spite it, not even to survive it, but to truly live through it.
We hope your holidays are likewise full of life. And opportunities to reach out. And, when reaching out gets to be a lot, to rest.
Merry Christmas!