In contemplating this letter, I was, at first, keen on telling you to get back, to regress, to fade into the background of the past like some unwelcome dream. I had this inkling due to the negatives that occurred throughout the year. But I cannot do that. Because what goes on in a year, be it in my life directly, or be it in life generally, is never lily white, never without unwelcome incident, never without an occasional plea for help. You have no monopoly on negativity; in this regard, you join hands with other years and share a certain amount of grease stains and grimy thumbprints left generously by ham-handed fumbling.
Instead, I will focus on the positives of these last twelve months, the warmth and smiles, the pleasingly unexpected and yes, even the bizarre that was cause for head-scratching, yet caused no harm. You are deserving, my dear 2015, you are entitled to glowing countenances, to glasses half filled, to a modicum gratitude and acknowledgement. Because getting better is good morning, a break of sunlight through the clouds, and blue skies with eagles soaring and wrens chirping in the spring.
To be sure, the years now tick with haste like a metronome quickened. You were such a year. But you won’t see me with slumped shoulders or my head down in despair. No, I shall let it be, that cliché-like harping of how the years sprint like greyhounds or leap like Olympians. Something else is more fitting; a September picnic, three houses down with neighbors I’ve known for years and some I have just begun to know. That was a yesterday on you, dear 2015, and epitomized warmth and friendship and, most importantly, love. That was a day in the life extraordinaire, a come together kind of day which stands out now because of its genuine goodness.
And I would be remiss if I did not thank you for your sense of humor. To that end I will remind you of the raccoon in the house, a raccoon who started out in the forsythia bush before her daring entry. Frightened to be sure, she came in through the bathroom window to then claw and thump the bath tub and shriek as if end times were at hand. Everyone in the house had to come together on that warm July morning, and then wait while I seized the moment playing raccoon catcher with quilt and gloves and a shot of adrenaline within due to this concurrent episode of Wild Kingdom and Outer Limits. I can tell you, (in the event you may have forgotten), that the word on said bathroom raccoon was one of success, and as she scampered through the yard and back on up into the woods, we all cheered and I felt a multitude of hands slapping me on the back and shoulders, as if I needed someone to honor me for some deed which I considered to be my pleasure.
I feel fine writing you this letter, and in conclusion I wish you well, and I thank you for a job well done, a job done with aplomb and with forthright diligence. I’m looking through you now, for the transparency of time is having lived it. Perhaps now, as you get ready to cede your reign to a new year, you may find your way across the universe to rest with the eternity of time already at peace in the golden slumbers so deserved. And when I look up at the night sky, perhaps I will see your name delineated by the countless stars in the grandness of space. Regardless, I will always pay you homage, and I will remember you fondly.
Writer’s Cramp Winner