… it was a pretty good decade, with a tumultuous beginning, a muddled middle, and a quiet, gentle ending.
I started it partnered with a quirky, doctor / birder / author boyfriend, and spent the last nine years and two months of it alone. It was only recently I began to see the joy and freedom in that. I make my own choices, enjoy the solitude, and travel to the erratic beat of my own wacky drum.
I learned what it was like to have a machine manufacture my breath. What it was like to brush the other side and push my way back.
My feet stepped on six continents. My sister and I scrubbed an elephant’s back in Thailand and walked the Great Wall. My friend Lynne and I sat in awe of the abundant African wildlife, camping our way through Botswana. I kissed the Blarney Stone, paddled a kayak through the Galapagos Islands, and ate a barbecued grub in Ecuador. I camped on the ice of Antarctica and followed the path of a penguin highway, serenaded by thousands of tuxedoed chinstraps. With my friends, Kris, Susan, Lynne, Karen, Sandra, Laura, and Pat, I finished a half marathon in Yosemite to commemorate turning 55. Three generations of my family stood before Stonehenge and rode the London Eye.
The decade revealed the extraordinary man my son is. Justin grew up and got married, and my beloved Isabelle went from toddler to teenager in the blink of an eye. My parents had ten wedding anniversaries, celebrating their 59ththis year.
I said farewell to consulting and hello to Nintendo.
I moved from an urban 1929 Queen Anne brick apartment to a suburban rambler in the Woodinville Wine District, and finally to a rural log home I call The Treehouse. This morning, as I watched the whitecaps on the water and listened to the birds singing and the wind in the trees, I realized I have truly found where I am most at peace. I am home here.
I quit drinking. Fifteen times, according to an app I have installed on my phone. I’m three weeks in to my 15th try. I’d like to leave it fully behind me in the next decade. It brings the dark forward, where I’d rather see light.
In the next decade, I want to laugh freely and cry with the same ease. I vow to be less fearful and more curious. I want to use my feet more and my keyboard less. I want to listen to music more than television and use less plastic. I’d like to offer more and take less, to release my need for constant distraction and replace it with stillness. Have less fast food and go to more farmers’ markets. Let go of old grudges, embrace forgiveness, and give people the benefit of the doubt. I want to always speak kindly. To garden, to travel, to take pictures, to listen more than talk, and enjoy every precious moment I spend with my family and dear friends.
The last ten years have been a wild, wild ride. I’m looking forward to seeing what the next ten bring, starting with my seventh continent … Australia. Here’s to new beginnings.