So I’m sitting here, wavering between honest optimism for the coming year, and trepidation that if I say that too loud, a Thor-like wrecking ball is going to swing in to flatten me. I don’t want to be superstitious, and yet, when one has a year like I’ve had, it would be foolhardy not to look around like a hunted gopher before I pop back up.
A tiny flame flickers in the stillness deep inside me. There it is. It feels like hope. I think I have hope. I am fighting with wanting to claim it with all my might from the rooftops. But I’m kind of scared to. I’m still dusty from all the knocking-down and ass-whooping last year dealt me. But there is this tiny bravado inside me- it’s not big enough to make me thumb my nose, but it’s big enough that I have a glint in my eye.
Today, I’m standing. Tomorrow, I may get knocked down again. But I know one thing: I’ll get back up. Every time. I may not want to, it may hurt, and I may cry. But mixed in with the tears and dirt will be that glint in my eye, and the getting back up.
Happy New Year.