The new year has gotten off to a clean start around here. As in, the garage was cleaned out and reorganized, boxes were consolidated and household stuff moved into the shed. My job was the consolidating part of things. While going through a bin, I found all the letters and cards I received while I was away at college one year.
Some were bittersweet. Like reading the ones my father sent. We lost him seven and a half years ago to lymphoma. And though he still visits me in dreams, it was good to be reminded of specific things about him and his daily routines before all the cancer, chemo and chaos took over. Things like his resourcefulness and a gift for fixing just about anything. His ability to stay calm even though he hadn’t gotten any sleep and drama was erupting all around him. He seemed to have an internal guidance system unperturbed by most external circumstances.
In the pile were other letters. Letters from my sister. And these letters made me laugh until I could barely breathe. I called to read them to her so we could share some much needed hilarity. These letters are remarkably like the emails she sends me now. Broken cars that need fixing–for the 105th time. Learning to say “No” and standing up for yourself. The list goes on. It would be paralyzingly depressing if we couldn’t laugh about it. Because it’s really true, the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Going into a new year, the air is full of resolutions. I’m not making any resolutions save one. To keep moving down my path. The stuff around me may not change much in the year ahead. Or even in the decade ahead. However, I can change my perspective and my attitude. Keeping to my path, and not the path belonging to someone else, I change on the inside. And that is the change that counts.