New
Year—Old Me
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Scraping along on the heels of Christmas, we celebrate the
beginning of a New Year. Many of us regard the new year as a time of
reflection, of taking stock of our lives, perhaps resolving to make changes.
For me, I’m the same old bag of skin I was last year, still
filled with some sad and some glad, much joy and a hint of mad.
As for making changes, I have a note on my desk to turn on
the bat light at night for the next week. That will keep the itinerant group of
bats from making a new home in the rafters of my patio roof. I like bats, but I
would rather they not be overhead. May they find a new home. Soon. Not a
personal change but a necessary one. The only change on my agenda today.
My friends Kathy and Richard, whom I’ve known twenty-plus
years, longer than anyone in our little community, are returning to Victoria,
BC next week for medical tests and care for Richard. There is excellent health care
here, but at home they know the doctors and know the language. More
comfortable.
I’m sad they are leaving and glad that Richard, who, by the
way, is a retired physician, is finally seeking medical help. His wife and
friends have been worried. Richard kept saying, “It’s nothing.” The river of
DeNial runs deep and strong.
Just yesterday I was telling Kathy that I, even after these
years here, I can hardly believe the life I am living, the life I have stumbled
upon. I could not have made this up. Remember seminars or weekend retreats when
the focus was on goal setting? What a laugh, for me, looking back, thinking I
could map my future.
I’ve come to believe, based on nothing substantial, that my
life is built on little decisions. You may label the consequences of decisions,
if you wish, good and bad. I’ve made them all. I choose not to label my
decisions. Sometimes, in my life, what at first seemed disaster turned out to
be rich with blessings. Others, well, I’ve been known, out of necessity, to
back up and take a different direction.
I said to my daughter, “After a life of work, work, work, I
can’t believe I’m such a sloth. I’m a lazy sloth, and I love my life.”
She said, “Mom, you are always busy. It’s just that now you are
free to find joy in simple things. Things like kneading bread or reading your
favorite book under the mango tree.”
We are entering a New Year. I hope to keep slothing along, doing
my own chores, cleaning my own house. We don’t know though, do we? Every day
brings something new, new joys, surprises, grief and pain. We don’t choose
what’s in the grab bag. We only choose how we deal with what we grab, seems to
me.
Happy New Year and may the coming year, made up of a day at
a time, bring you much joy.
Sondra Ashton
HWC: Looking out my back door
December 31, 2025
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