Have you named her yet?
The New Year?
I haven’t always thought of her as a “her”, specifically. But this year I do.
I have no idea why. Except that I think 2022 is going to be a kinder, gentler year.
I have no idea why.
This past year has been like the kind of year where you’re stopped at the end of the road, trying to make a left during rush hour, and yeah, there’s a stop sign, but no traffic signal promising that in a minute, you’ll get to go.
And all the oncoming cars are like – nope.
I think in 2022 they might let you go.
2022 might just be that kind of year.
Which, in my mind, is a woman who’s waited at enough of those left turns for more than long enough, and understands.
So why in the name of all that’s borderline-holy, haven’t I named her by now?
It should be “love”. I should name her “love.”
Because a person, or a year, who loves you will definitely let you make that left turn. For sure. No matter how many horns are honking behind her.
She’ll let you go because she understands.
She’ll make some space, give you some grace.
Which is something I think we can all use.
But no. I’m not naming the new year “love”.
I usually start thinking of new-year-names at the beginning of December, or the end of September, depending on how the current year is going.
This year I started thinking of names in May.
Because, let’s face it, this year has been exhausting.
I thought about “love” and “joy” and “rest”, because frankly I think we can all use some rest.
But that sounds too much like “wait” and I think we’re all pretty tired of waiting.
Tired of waiting for life to get back to normal.
Tired of waiting for things to be what they were, BC. (Before Covid).
Tired of waiting for the end of this pandemic.
And really, really tired of waiting to make that turn.
I hope that in this coming year things do get back to normal. I mean, I hope that normalcy returns, but maybe with a few little tweaks, like a more just minimum wage and a more equitable education system.
And less inflation.
And less homelessness.
And less pollution, racism, sexism, any-isms.
I do know, of course, that I cannot personally solve any of this. But I can do what I can.
I can be more charitable with my time and my resources.
I can pry open my mind a bit, let some fresh air in, and maybe suggest (in the nicest way possible) that you might like some fresh air too?
I can change out my lightbulbs for energy saving ones.
I can recycle and compost and hang my laundry on the line.
Which is all great. I mean, it’s all very little, but it’s still great. Even the smallest step in the right direction is a right step.
But maybe the best thing I can do, when I find myself able to do it, is to just slow down, stop, wave someone on in, and let them make that left turn.
Which might not make much of an impact on inflation, but will surely make a bit of an impact on someone’s commute.
So, this year?
The year of kindness.
Because kindness matters.
tweetables:“”No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” (~Aesop) “Kind people are the best kind of people.” (~unknown)
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