The year was a test.

There was the separation from my husband. Brief, but emotionally charged.

There was the decision to work on our marriage, and our communication.

There was the weight loss, and exercise plan. It was pretty successful and lasted until mid-August when I just didn’t feel like doing anything. Until now. Now, I’m ready to get back to it.

Mid-August. There was my grandmother’s death. I wrote a poem about it, but it got deleted through my own foolishness. I’ll try to recreate it here:

The inevitable

You’d get frustrated, but
I’d smile, when you called me
by my aunt’s name

We were all one after all
We are all one less after all of this
with memories on bits of paper

With memories on the backs of eyelids
I’ll never see you pace
across your kitchen floor

or fidget, because you could
hardly sit still
I’ll never warm your ice cold

feet between the palms of my hands,
or comb out the tight curls
of hair at the back where

you just couldn’t reach
I’ll always remember the
way grandpa and I would tease

and you’d always look up, asking
“What? What’s there?” and then
we’d giggle like the crazy cohorts we were

and you always accepted
our joking with grace
because “gullible” isn’t in the dictionary

No, really, it isn’t…
you always accepted our joking
with grace

You always lived your life
with grace
with beauty, with love, and with caring

Without you, there would be
no me, and I’m deeply grateful
for our time, for our love

The poem above isn’t the same, but it carries the same meaning as what I originally wrote the day after her death.

There was New York. I fell in love with the city, and I’ve never truly liked cities though I’ve lived in them all of my life. I’ve loved lakes, rivers, trees, mountains, and fields. And I know I only saw a tiny bit of the city. Explorations guided by my maps, my metro card and my own two feet. I needed New York. I needed to experience it alone and on my own terms. I don’t know if I’ll ever end up living in New York, or even if I’ll be able to visit it again, But I can easily say I love that city.

There was the return to school. I feel at home in school. Especially college. It is the soil at that feeds my roots. For the first four classes since my return I’ve managed a 3.925 GPA. Not bad, I’d have to admit. But beyond grades, college has reminded me that I really do what to teach, and that I love learning. The program, creative writing, mainly fiction. And I think I can do this. I can write. I can teach. It may take a few years for me to reach success, but I think I can do it.

There is living debt-free. No credit cards for financial safety nets, for financial pit falls, or for financial disaster. It is a bit frightening to live debt-free. All we have is the money we make, the money we spend, and the money we save. It’s the way it should be, I know, but still frightening. The relief, of course, outweighs the fright a million times over.

There is the future. Will our marriage continue to survive? Will I be able to get a summer internship in Washington, D.C.? Will I be published? Will I be published and make any money at writing? Will I be accepted into a graduate program? Will I find a teaching job? So many unknowns. All I can do is continue to work, continue to dream, and continue to take action. And I have confidence that I can do these things. I’ve seen what I can become through idleness. It isn’t a pretty picture. The reality of accepting less from myself, way less, was heart-breaking. And why break my own heart over myself. That just ends up being silly.

Was 2002 a great year? No, I wouldn’t say that. It was a jump start. It was a beginning and several endings. It was a rediscovery of dreams long forgotten, a redefining of those dreams. It was a rejuvenation of love, family and friendships. It was a chance to say good bye. It was a chance to say “I welcome the future”. Thank you, 2002.