Some New and Old Year Notes
by Wendel Potter
We made a desperate crawl toward 2022, like an exhausted marathoner in 999th place gasping and reaching for the finish line out of pride. But we made it, and that seems to put some magical implied distance between us and 2021.
For my family, last year began with grieving the loss of my brother, who sadly and unexpectedly fell short of the finish line on December 30, 2020. He went to bed that night seemingly healthy. He did not wake up. He is greatly missed.
Our hearts were not emboldened with hope and certainly not cheer when the calendar flipped to 2021. The shock was still fresh at 12:00 am on January 1st, when the Times Square ball dropped before a virtual audience in the midst of a pandemic.
It would be selfish to discount the grief of so many others whose loved ones departed during that year. 350,000 alone of those loved ones died from the ravaging effects of Covid-19. And the disease has killed twice as many or more since, and still lingers like a controlling specter across all continents on this New Year's Day 2022.
If you're a bible reader, you'll know that one of the notable things Job said was, "For the thing I feared most has come upon me."
That hit home in March, when it was suspected that my wife had cancer. Our fear was founded a short time later, and in April, she had surgery to remove part of her colon.
The cancer was caught in time, Stage I, and the prescribed treatment was observation only. We couldn't have asked for better news, now that the thing we feared the most had come and gone. The love of my life recovered bravely, and quickly.
The shadow of a life threatening illness, even though things turned out well, will always hover around us, I guess. With time, you don't think about it quite so often, but nevertheless it's taken up a long term residency in the backs of our minds.
It's surprising how well you can adapt, too, even at our ages. Eat this! Don't eat that! Drink that water! Walk those miles! You just do it, and as my wife's life partner, I do it alongside her.
Except I refuse to drink anything with Chia seeds, as is recommended. I don't want one of those weird, shrubby animals growing bigger and bigger inside my gut every time I take a drink of water. Another thing I fear is reading this headline: Florida Man Gives Birth to Dog-Shaped Fern.
The doctors were, of course, adamant that Karen stay out of crowds and wear a mask. We'd been following those guidelines, anyway, so that wasn't a challenge.
Then, the White House took an optimistic approach in July and we thought we were home free. We could socialize a little, even though my wife was still encouraged to wear a mask. But we anticipated a step out of the Covid cave we'd inhabited for so long.
Of course, the Delta variant reared its ugly head and our heads went back indoors. As the holidays approached, though, there was hope again, and if not Thanksgiving, Christmas at least held out hope that we might be able to congregate with family. Enough hope that we made plans.
After Thanksgiving, the Omicron variant made its presence known, along with a lot of unknowns, and Covid cases spiked drastically. Our doctor insisted we stay home on Christmas, even though we were vaccinated and boosted.
It wasn't just that Karen had suffered through cancer. The cancer is gone and her system is on the mend, but still in recovery mode. That other shadow that we don't give much thought to--or care to acknowledge--was following us, and we had to be reminded. We're in the "elderly" group.
So "We'll Be Home For Christmas" was our holiday theme, with a rousing rendition of "The Old Folks At Home." This wasn't a decision we enjoyed making, but it was a choice we were compelled to make, to stay healthy.
Aside from my wife returning to good health, there were other high points in our lives in 2021. The following paragraph will remain blank while I try to think of them.
Okay, I'm back.
As a writer, I had a pretty decent year, with several of my short stories appearing in a national magazine. I always wanted to write even before I knew how to write. My freelance career didn't kick in until 1979, and over the years, it spent more time in the valleys than it did on the peaks. But you don't give up. Not if you have a story to tell.
In 2022, I plan to tell a lot more stories than I've told in a long time. I only ask that, when I publish them here on this blog, or in a magazine or book, you'll find time to give them a read.
I'm not one of those writers who write only for himself. What I write, I like to share. Now, not everyone is going to enjoy everything I write. Even Hemingway sucked a few times throughout his career.
But hopefully I'll hit on enough topics to go around, to interest somebody at one time or another.
All in all, we learned some life lessons in 2021. We stared down adversity, we encountered the good hearts of those who rallied around my wife during her illness. Whether it was beautiful flowers, prayers, a phone call, or a Facebook message, each sentiment was received with the love we felt from those who poured out their kindness.
I learned something, too, about faith. Not just believing in a god, but believing in ourselves and our strength of will to forge ahead like that marathon runner, to reach the finish line no matter what place we're in, whether there's a trophy waiting or not.
If you cross that line, you've won and you live to fight, and hopefully enjoy, another year.
Happy New Year Everybody.
Copyright 2022 by Wendel J Potter
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