It was not the beginning. There are no beginnings or endings in the turning of the wheel of time…but it was a beginning.
It occurs to me that I haven’t had a lot to say lately. I realized a few days ago that I haven’t written a single word since September, and that’s very unusual for me…because I’m usually much more of a chatterbox. Part of me wonders if I should just leave it at that and let the ending of my ship career mean the ending of my blogging as well.
But the thing is it’s not that I have nothing to write about. It’s just that the things I have to write about now are so…different than they were, that I suppose I fear that I won’t live up to the expectations of the few readers I have left. I mean, stories about puppies and tour guiding don’t really have the same ring as “hey guys I road a vintage car through Havana today!”
It was three years ago…Cuba I mean…but I digress, you probably get my point.
It doesn’t feel like three years ago. None of it feels like three years ago.
But I am still here. Right where I’m supposed to be. Just a lot more quiet these days. And I was right, to live…to live has proved an awfully big adventure. And not always an easy one, but then …adventures never are are they?
I won’t lie, this hasn’t been an easy year. There’s been an awful lot straining and pulling and tearing at everyone I know, myself included, and it certainly doesn’t help that we’re still seeing the world from behind a facemask – but I am also trying to realize that it has hardly been all bad. There is a pretty bright light at the end of my own personal tunnel , though I don’t want to risk jinxing it just yet. I hope to have news on it soon.
In other daily events, my clinic is decorating for Christmas, and we’ve had to get creative since we have basically no budget. But if there is one thing that living on ships has taught me, it’s that you can bring an amazing amount of joy with very little money. Right now I am printing out photographs of the animals that come to see us and turning them into ornaments for the tree. I wish I could claim the idea was mine but it came from a much more creative soul than I: my mother (hey, I give credit where credit is due).
It’s shaping up to be another odd Christmas. Money is tight and there won’t be a lot under the tree – if anything – but more and more as I get older I’m realizing that it truly isn’t about that. I give people things because I like seeing the looks on their faces, I like making them happy, but more and more I realize that there’s nothing I desperately need in return. I’ve got everything I really need, I’ve got people who love me, and a roof over my head, and a family that is…the most awesome family I could ever have lucked into (or chosen). I have a husband who’s my closest friend, who often looks after me much better than I look after myself and – despite all my bizarre broken quirks – loves me. And I’ve have somehow lucked into coworkers that I fit in with (seriously, after years and years bouncing from contract to contract I’ve found my roots at a little tiny vet clinic with a staff of 7…and I am fiercely protective of it). There is even talk of that longed for dog in a perhaps-not-so-distant future.
2021 has been a hard year. In too many ways to list. Twisty, turny, emotional rollercoaster ride hard…but it’s gone a long way to making me realize just what’s important. For me? My quiet little corner of the world is my dolly in the corner, and all I want is for it to be safe and protected.
And that’s the best Christmas present anyone could get me.