Dear Mom – remember all the money you spent on a hotel in Kansas City last year so chemo could feel a little more vacation and a little less I’d-rather-die? I was thinking this year you could spend fewer hours in a chemo pod – hours for which you didn’t get any blissful amnesia like I kind of did. Maybe the first few weeks of this year could have softer chairs, more movies in your living room and fewer on your computer, fewer daughters turning gray from sickness and blue from Methylene. That’s what I was thinking.
I was thinking of you too, Kelcey and Lisa – remember how you put up the finish line for me when I finished chemo? Well, this year it’s a starting gate. And maybe the year has trouble for one of us, but let’s assume it doesn’t. Let’s assume it only has good and wonderful and new and best. I’ll see you New Year’s Eve. :)
Michele, the Oscar party’s going to rock this year. I’m going to eat All the food. And we’re going to celebrate not that I made it to vaguely healthy in time for the party but that you’re off soon to a new adventure and I’ll miss you like crazy but we’ll find a way every year to swoon over the music montages again. We will also celebrate the gods of the Academy Awards who saw fit to bring back Billy Crystal and all is right with the world.
And Michael, I just discovered another great Taylor Swift song. I know. You’re thrilled. But if you’re deficient in rapture at that, I know your sense of endless possibilities for this year is at least higher than last. Though, as Taylor would say it:
You held your head like a hero / On a history book page
It was the end of a decade / But the start of an age
The walls we crashed through
While the kingdom lights shined just for me and you…
Long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you
I can’t help it. I love a New Year. There’s so much potential for goodness. Especially when you’ve already proven, if you have to, you can handle the bad.