I’m of two minds about the new year.
Part of me can’t wait for the ball in Times Square to drop.
The other part is waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I don’t remember a time in my life when the changing of the year carried so much significance.
There was the year 2000, but that was more disappointing than anything.
But this year I have to figure out how much of the trauma of 2020 I can slough off before head-ing into the next round of this pandemic. Can I regain momentum?
It’s safe to say this won’t be a wipe the slate clean, start fresh year.
I suspect it will feel more like a water break mid-marathon.
That point in the race when everything hurts but you are nowhere near the finish line, so you grab a quick
drink and keep moving.
