Dear Old Year

I’ve gotten into the habit of writing letters to the Old Year, in preparation for the New Year. That, and resolutions.

Here goes everything.

2021,

You were made of promises but unfortunately you did not stay that way. You were kind of like washing a pig and then looking out the window and seeing it rolling around in the mud for the umpteenth time. You were chock full of unpredictability. I enjoyed myself though, in some places. I had some wonderful times at assorted weddings. I discovered new coffee places and songs to sing with old friends. I went to Pittsburgh. I went to Boise. I had fun.

But you were also possibly one of the most depressing years. I won’t detail because I plan to post this either on blog or status. Fortunately, there were lights in the dark. There were stars in the cloudy sky. They were few and far in between, but they were there.

And 2021, this last day is the best day of this year. I will draw for Dena, I will sing with my sisters, I will seek my Father’s will. I will maybe take some risks.

Hello, 2022. I am tentatively looking forward to you.

Linda Peachey, 2021