I woke up earlier than I wanted to this morning. I wasn’t all that happy about it in the moment, but I gave in and put on my jeans and slippers before wrapping myself up in my favorite fleece jacket and decided to walk down the block to wake myself up. The boys slept over at their grandparents’ house and my husband was still sleeping soundly, so I wanted to do something that most mornings don’t have room for. Stepping outside in the cool air was a bit of a shock. It felt refreshing and terrible all at the same time. It was 7:30am, so the light was still a bit dim and our neighborhood was silent except for a ‘V’ of honking geese flying overhead. As I made my way down the sidewalk, I thought about what it means to me that 2017 is here. I’m not one for making lists of resolutions, but I do like to pick one or two things to focus on to make myself better. To be honest, I’m still undecided on this year’s focus and I’m OK with it. Ultimately, I don't want to reinvent myself. I want to be kind to the same old me that shows up every year.
With those thoughts still hanging in the air, I turned around for home. I had only made it a couple of blocks, but it was enough to clear my head and feel motivated to start my day. The sun was growing brighter and higher in the sky and I felt so thankful for that little window to being my first moments of the New Year. There is much to tackle, as always, in regards to parenting, wife-ing, and self-care. I’m hoping this morning sets the stage for all of those things. For now, my plan is to put the cinnamon rolls that I made yesterday into the oven, drink a latte, and make a healing, comforting pot of soup for dinner. If I feel like it, maybe I’ll start packing up our Christmas decorations. Although, I’ve enjoyed them so much this year that I am not anxious to let them go just yet.
Here's to a kinder, more meaningful, healing year. Happy New Year, friends.