So here we are, watching one of the weirdest years on record crawl out the back door. It’s odd to write “weird” about a year that’s not just personally weird. It has been a globally weird year. Hardly a soul on the planet has been unaffected by the pandemic—the hype, the fear, the sadness, the illness, the death, the economic disaster.
And here in the US, we have had to pile Trump and MAGAts and all their antics on top of the pandemic shit heap. And the way those antics have multiplied the disaster of the pandemic a hundredfold.
Yep. 2020 has been a shit sandwich. And all that shit has piled up and sat on top of my brain and my fingers and my keyboard, and made it impossible to write more than flurries of 280-character tweets.
Looking over 17 years of “Coming to Terms,” I noticed that my all-time low of posting seems to have occurred in 2014. Thirty-seven posts in an entire year. No idea what happened in 2014 that was so much more interesting than writing. Or that might have been so heavy and horrid…or “weird”…that made it so I couldn’t write. I’m never happy with all-time lows when it comes to writing.
And, lookie here! Only 36 entries for all of 2020! I could do it! I could hit a new all-time low! And there would be no year more deserving than this shit sandwich of a pandemic, MAGAt, Trump-ridden, rotten-ass year.
But, no.
I’m going to write a post. This post. And I’m going to stick it out there.
Because, in spite of all the shit that is 2020, I have things to be grateful for. A lot of things.
We still have a roof over our heads, food to eat, vehicles to drive.
We have stayed healthy.
We have our “children”—even though we’ve lost 3 in the space of a year.
We have family, who also have roofs over their heads, food to eat, vehicles to drive.
We have rejected, as a nation, a sick old snake oil salesman and his mob of criminals.
There is much to be thankful for.
So here are a few paragraphs, just to let the Universe know that I appreciate that 2020 could have been a lot worse. And I am forever grateful that it wasn’t.
Goodbye, 2020. You weren’t the worst. But still…don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Too bad we can't use the good, old, "don't let the door hit ya where the Lord split ya" to say haul the old year out. Looks like a lovely sunrise over here this morning.
ReplyDeleteThere's one bright side to being where you are instead of in the valley--we get sind and rain and storms, and you get the sun. Enjoy it!
DeleteHaven't seen much sun so far. Almost as many clouds and fog. Not as much rain. Chair right by the window. We have bird TV. The buds on the tree in the courtyard are starting, barely, to show. Looking forward to that.
ReplyDelete