At the end of every year, I write myself a love letter. It’s filled with all the wonderful things I did that year. I list trips, achievements, improvements and setbacks. I write about the jobs and volunteer positions I worked, people I met and roles I filled.
For me, the best part is going back and rereading past love letters to myself. I read about the year I had the shed built, the house painted, the dishwasher replaced as well as the sad saga of the new fridge being replaced by another new fridge just 2 years later (sad face.)
I also include a list of things I want to accomplish in the new year. Those letters are fun to read too because I get to read what I hoped for and what I actually achieved. Dreaming about far away trips, getting in shape, finding my mate, making amends, and other such plans. Some happened, some did not, some still might (Right?)
This year’s letter will list that I attended two family weddings, traveled to see my granddaughter 3 times, served as a Senior Counselor at a youth leadership camp, experienced ‘Peak Colors” in the NY Adirondacks in October, and feasted on all the memorable foods from my youth (apples, half-moon cookies, fried fish, clam chowder.) I went camping, hiking and kayaking. I made new friends and said good-bye to others.
These letters become my shorthand form of journaling – I can explain the present, report the past and plan the future. It is a succinct way of wiping away the past and leaving a blank canvas for the new year.
I feel like going back to the past love letters that I wrote and placing a star on my accomplished goals. My trip to Ireland (STAR), camping trip with friends (STAR), life in the mountains ( sad face), visit granddaughter (STAR)…
I began writing these letters to remind myself that the things I did really did matter. It was my time to acknowledge my accomplishments. There’s no boss to give me a raise or a pat on the back. There are no colleagues to remind me that I really did take that trip or climb that mountain or learn that software. Often times when I am feeling low and lonely especially during the holidays, it’s easy to forget the strides I’ve made. And so, I read about my past and write about my present.
In a strange way, I can hold myself accountable as well. If I read past letters and they continue to list the same thing over and over then I need to take a look at what’s holding me back and how to get beyond the wall. Is it something I really do want or is it something I think I should want? For goodness sake, these are my hopes and dreams — SHOULDS are not allowed.
My letter this year, as I enter a new decade (and a Leap Year!) will be filled with outrageous GOALS & WHAT IF’s and WHY NOT’S? Nothing to lose, everything to gain and a letter that will surly bring me smiles next year at this time either way! Twenty-Twenty – Here I come!
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I’ve been going through my closets and looking at the pile of things I have accumulated over the past year. Someone gave me a baby doll to give to my granddaughter but she’s into goats and sheep and horses. No dolls in her bed (thank you very much.)
My friend Donna is making a huge move in her life. She put her job on hold for a year. She rented out her house. She sold her car. She downsized her belongings. She gave away possessions. She made the big announcement. She is almost on her way.
I think it’s the dreary, drab time of year that makes me want to do something bold. But I’m drawing a blank. (Ha, back to the white canvas … right?)
To be honest, I don’t think there is anything wrong with social media… 
Last week I sent the article link titled 
The tail end of my life? I never really put me and my lifespan into the equation. What began as an novel idea has turned into an “in your face” fact. Four years has passed since Tim Urban wrote and published this in 2015 and since then many things have happened in my world. I am retired, I have a 2-year old granddaughter, my grandson is ten years old, my brother has died and so many other happy and sad life events have occurred. I am in the third of my life and more aware of my dear wonderful friend called ‘Time.’
It’s been over 40 years since my boys had to learn to leave the diaper behind and become ‘big boys.’ The thing is, I can’t remember that time in my life too clearly. I can remember a basket of ‘rewards’ on top of the refrigerator for each successful trip to the toilet. The treats were rubber balls, match box cars, balloons, suckers, stickers and other five and dime type gifts. They were individually gift wrapped and offered as if it were Christmas morning.