Becoming isn’t just to be.
It is to make,
to create
to sew,
to choose a path and go.
It is to do,
and not get happened to.
It’s to wish that wish
and whatever it is,
to plant it,
tend it,
help it grow,
and in the working know:
Every day is new.
New Year
My 2025 Word of the Year
Before Lucy was born, I worked really hard to set tangible, measurable goals every year. I enjoyed the process, and I enjoyed the results, too. But…life looks very different now. So last year, I started a new practice, and chose a word of the year.
I have friends who’ve done this for a long time. They appreciate it, and it works for them.
It didn’t quite work for me last year.
But, to be fair, last year was very…overwhelming. (In a good way. And in a hard one, too.)
So, we’re trying again!
I thought hard about my word this year. I wanted to choose something that would adequately capture the challenge of living in a new place with a one-year-old and trying to figure out how my needs and the things that I want to accomplish for myself fit into that picture. I came to one conclusion:
That’s what I’m going to do this year.
I’ll explore my new home, and my creative goals, and my writing journey, and my own (scary messy but still somehow organized-ish) mind. My heart, my relationships, my feelings, my anxieties, my fears.
I’m going to make this year a year of glorious, purposeful exploration.
I’m so excited to see what I’ll discover.
Good Morning, Goodbye, Hello, and Hope
Good morning, New Year’s Eve.
And goodbye, 2024.
What, exactly, should I say about 2024? Perhaps that it was a year of change and challenge, immense joy and incredible fear, deep and new and all-encompassing love, disappointments and expectations and successes and surprises and sleepless nights.
I hope that 2025 is kind to me, and to all of us.
I hope that in the new year, things get better and not worse. I hope my family stays safe and happy and healthy. I hope that love and comfort and peace find the people who need them most, and that all people remember that we have more in common than we think, and more to gain through compassion than through hate.
I hope that this new year brings joy and music and fun and good stories. I hope that the beach becomes home.
I hope that Lucy grows and learns and knows every day how loved and wanted and perfect she is.
I hope that I make good mistakes – the kind that lead to lessons and laughs and not too many consequences – and that I learn, too, and that I create, and that I discover more about myself and who I am as a mom, and as a writer, and as a human. I hope that I can bring those things together in harmony.
I hope.
I hope.
I hope.
That’s what I have. That’s what we all have, always. Hope is undying and eternal and as powerful as we allow it to be.
I choose power. I choose hope.
So, goodbye 2024, and thank you. For everything.
And hello 2025. Let’s work together to make something good.
My 2024 Word of the Year
Okay, so I’m a little late on this. I’ve been busy, you know?
Normally, every year, I set very specific goals and make plans for how I’m going to accomplish them. This year, things are a little different and my only goal is to be a good mom to Lucy while I figure everything else out. So, I’m trying something new. A lot of my friends choose a “word of the year” every year, and I’ve never done it. But new year, new things to try. So, here we go. My word this year is:
EMBRACE
Embrace this new life. Embrace these new challenges. Embrace the joys and the hardships and the highs and lows. Embrace myself, and Graham, and most especially, baby Lucy, who is so fun to cuddle. Embrace all the changes and embrace every moment, and hold these precious, brief days with both arms.
I shall try.
New Days (A Poem)
Cloudy sky spitting snow,
and 364 to go.
One year gone and lessons learned
as another comes to take its turn –
new and old meet at the door
and cross the threshold.
For us
(the three of us):
Hope and joy,
love and light,
a bright dawn after a lonely night
and so many happy memories already.
These are truly the new days.
May they last and linger
and spread out
endless and infinite.
Please (A Poem)
*Thank you for your kind words and condolences. Knowing that you’re out there, thinking of us, just means a lot. Gatsby was one in a million, and I will always, always miss him. He gave us everything he could for his entire long and happy life, and he loved us so much. So in this new year, I aspire to honor him and remember him by loving like he did – unconditionally, and in your face, and completely.*
Welcome, New Year,
and please be kind –
I’ve had enough time
grieving.
I’m tired of
tears and loss,
of waiting,
and of fears that
joy is fleeting.
I hope that things are
better
brighter
in this space you’re making,
and that you bring
new light
and hope.
I’ve done my best,
and I’m still trying,
but a little help
would sure be nice.
We’ll create something
together,
I know.
May it be –
please let it be –
something good.
New Light (A Poem)
Through the gate and
into the cold winter world,
the New Year comes to greet the Old.
Not to replace or relive,
but revive –
tired hands,
tired hearts,
tired minds –
and bring new light
to the darkest days.
Sunday Supper #5: Happy New Year!
Hello, 2022! It’s lovely to meet you, and I hope you’re kind to us. Like, seriously. Please.
That’s pretty much where I am today. We had a lovely Christmas, and a very low-key New Year’s Eve and Day, and this evening, I’m mostly just pondering possibilities and wondering what this newest of years will bring. I’ve not made any Very Big Plans, though I have jotted down some goals, especially in regards to my creative work. More to come on that, and I think it’s going to be exciting.
But for now, I’d like to leave you with wishes for a wonderful, fulfilling, peaceful, exciting, creative, memorable, and most of all, a happy New Year. I hope you do cool stuff, make mistakes, learn, grow, draw, paint, dance, cook, eat, sing, read, write, and just generally live the best you can. And if you ever need a cheerleader, know I’m here, in your corner, even from the other side of the world, and I think you got this, whatever it is. Make 2022 a good one, y’all, and I’ll do the same.
Oh, and for supper: Taco Bell. Don’t judge. What’s a good year without a few tacos? 😉
The Making of Annie’s Auld Lang Syne (A Short Story)
First thing’s first: I think this is a silly idea for an essay. I’m only writing it because Mrs. Vernon said I’d get a big fat zero if I didn’t. And so help me, Jordan Nunley, if you make those weird faces while I’m reading it out loud, I will throw my pencil at you every day for the rest of the year. It’s only December 11th, buddy.
I think this is a silly idea for an essay for two reasons. The first is that we’re twelve. We’re just going to do what our parents tell us to do on New Year’s Eve. The second is that there’s a stupid virus going around that’s keeping us from having too much fun anyway. Chances are, we’re all just going to sit at home and watch TV and eat snacks.
So, yeah, that’s “What I’m Doing on New Year’s Eve.”
But I’ve only written three paragraphs, haven’t I? And I’ve been told I need to write at least five to get a passing grade. So in the interest of my report card, here’s some more stuff that I’m making up to take up space and prove that I can make sentences and choose good vocabulary words.
My sister and I only like each other about half the time. My mom tells me this is very normal, and that we’ll be closer as we get older. Alice and I have our doubts.
On New Year’s Eve, sometime in the afternoon, Alice will walk into my room and say: “Are you really going to spend all night in here reading?”
She’s not supposed to come into my room without knocking, but she always does. So I’ll already be kind of annoyed, and I’ll say: “Yes.”
And then I’ll go back to looking at the stack of books I’ve got fanned out in front of me, because I’ll want to choose the optimal one to end the year with. A mystery? Or a romance? Or maybe a fantasy. But I’ll take the choice very seriously.
And she’ll look at me with that face that she makes when she thinks I’m being pedantic, and she’ll say: “You’re so boring, Annie.” And then she’ll laugh and walk away.
My sister laughs a lot. Mrs. Vernon knows, because Alice was in this class four years ago, and Mrs. Vernon sent a lot of notes home to my parents about how she’s “disruptive.” She’s always laughing or talking, and she’s always busy, and I sometimes think she’s exhausting. So it never bothers me when she laughs at me, because I laugh at her, too, but only in my head. And there’s no way on earth I’d want to spend my New Year’s Eve hanging out with her and her friends, doing…whatever it is that they do. I’d rather be boring.
Except I don’t really think I’m boring at all. I write a lot of stories, and I read a lot of books. I get to live in new worlds almost every day. That’s why I’ll make sure that the book I choose to read on New Year’s Eve is the perfect choice. Isn’t that cool? I can go anywhere in any world to end the year. Alice will probably just go to the park down the street and drink something gross. To me, that’s boring.
Anyway, I’ll choose a book and start to read, and in about an hour, I’ll probably get hungry. I used to keep a bag of chips in my bedside table for just this problem, but my mom started worrying that we’d get mice. So now, all the food stays in the kitchen. So I’ll walk downstairs and while I’m looking for just the right snack, my mom will be working on dinner, and she’ll warn me: “Don’t ruin your appetite.”
My mom’s a good cook, and I think she’s actually enjoyed having some extra time to learn new recipes. We made cookies together before Christmas, and they were probably my favorite cookies ever.
My dad will hear us over the sound of the TV, where he’ll probably be watching some show on Netflix for like the fifth time, and he’ll walk in, too, and he’ll say: “Where are you going tonight?” And he’ll wink, because he knows I’m not “going” anywhere.
I’ll say: “Decided to go back to Narnia, at least for a while. Might stop by Hogwarts later.”
And he’ll say: “Safe travels. Chess when you get back?”
My dad loves to play chess. He’s been teaching me for the last year or so, and I think I’m getting pretty good. I even win sometimes, though I’m never sure if it’s because I’ve figured it out, or because he lets me. Either way, it’s a thing we can do together, which is cool.
I’ll say: “Sure!”
And he’ll say something dumb, like: “The challenge is accepted. I must prepare for battle.”
My dad’s such a dork.
Last year, we decided to have a fire in the back yard and make S’mores, but this year I think we’ll probably plan to stay inside. It’s been a rainy winter so far, and I don’t think any of us wants to get our hopes up. Except Alice, anyway, because she’s crazy, but I already talked about that.
I’m already almost out of material, which is something my dad says when he’s trying to be funny. But I guess it’s a real thing, because it’s happening to me right now. Seriously, how do you write an essay about your plans when your plans are basically to do nothing?
Okay, so I’ll have chosen my book, and gotten some chips, and talked to my sister and my parents. Next, I’ll probably head back up and read for a while longer. I don’t know if I’ll actually choose The Chronicles of Narnia or one of the Harry Potter books, but I bet I’ll pick something adventurous. And it’ll probably be something I’ve read before, so it’s a sure thing that I’ll like it. And I guess I’ll eat dinner with my parents at some point, too. I’m not sure what my mom is planning to cook, but I am sure that whatever it is, it will be delicious.
At dinner, I bet we’ll talk about our New Year’s Resolutions. My parents both like to make New Year’s Resolutions, because they say you should always have goals. I haven’t decided yet, but I think my goals for next year are going to be to read twenty books, write ten stories, and start learning to play piano. I bet you’re surprised I want to learn piano, because I’ve never talked about it before, but I do. My mom’s been playing since she was little. If I do chess with my dad, it would be cool to also do piano with my mom.
After dinner, I’ll read for a bit more. And then at about 9:00, my dad will probably beat me at chess. And I bet that by then, he’ll have started a fire in the fireplace. Aside from chess, I think that’s his favorite thing. Alice will probably come home at about 10:00, because that’s her curfew, and we’ll just all sit there together until the ball drops.
My mom always cries a little right at midnight. She says they’re happy tears, and that she’s just really glad that we’re all together. I am, too, even though I can’t wait until Alice goes to college and gets out of my hair for a while.
And right after midnight, my mom will sit down at the piano and play “Auld Lang Syne,” and we’ll all sing. Which is the one thing Alice is good at. And then, we’ll hug and say goodnight, and I’ll get ready and go to bed. Or, to read. My parents always let me stay up late on New Year’s Eve to read.
And that’s it. That is probably “What I’m Doing on New Year’s Eve.” Unless an asteroid hits Earth or my parents win the lottery or something. Then I guess my plans might change.
See? I told you this was a silly idea for an essay. And don’t think I don’t see you, Jordan. I hope you like Number 2 pencils.
************
Thank you for reading! This is the last of the twelve stories I’ve written as part of my 2021 Short Story Challenge. Twelve months, twelve stories, and the theme this year was: Home.
Here are the first eleven stories, if you’d like to read them:
Stay tuned for an announcement regarding my 2022 Short Story Challenge. I’ve got some good ideas, and I hope you join me in writing some amazing stories. But just reading is good, too, and I’m glad you’re here. 😊
Happy New Year!
Five Lessons I’ve Learned in 2021
As 2021 comes to a close, I’m spending a lot of time reflecting on what I’ve learned, what I’ve accomplished, what I haven’t, and how I want to set goals for 2022.
I didn’t always do this. I’m not a great planner, and sometimes it hurts to think about missed opportunities and bad moments from the previous year. But 2020 changed everything. I want to set goals. I want to make things happen and keep improving myself. I want to live every day with purpose, and live knowing that I’m doing my best. 2020 showed the world just how fragile life – and all of the things we’ve built around ourselves to be comfortable and happy – can actually be. So, here I am, looking back on this last year, and planning for the next one, knowing that all of my moments and all of my dreams are precious.
So, that was a big lesson from 2020. And I’m thinking tonight about what I’ve learned in 2021.
************
Be gentle and patient with yourself.
Life’s hard enough without having your own self as a critic and an enemy. Things won’t always turn out the way you want them to. You can try and still fail. You can fail to try, and then have to deal with the consequences. That’s not a moral failing, or a sign that you’re not a good person or capable. That’s human. We’re all human. We are worthy of our own kindness and grace.
Life may get in the way of your plans. Make them anyway.
I had some big creative plans for this year, and though I’ve made a little bit of headway on them, they clearly haven’t materialized yet as I wanted them to. For the first half of the year, there was a bigger issue – an issue that affected more than just me – that required my full attention. So, I gave it. And it mattered. It made a difference. I made a thing happen. It meant changing up what I thought I’d be doing with my time this year, and that’s okay. I’ve still taken steps forward. And I’ll continue to take steps forward, even if they’re tiny ones, until I see my goals become real.
Failure is a teacher.
To be fair, I think I’ve always known this. I think we all do, but it’s a lesson we have to learn over and over, because it sucks to fail. There are few things harder for a human, I think, than to do your best and still not succeed. But it happens. And it will happen again and again. There’s nothing for it but to learn from it and take those lessons forward to the next task. If you’ve failed, at least you’ve tried, and if you’ve tried once, you can try again.
Every single second is a chance to start over.
Don’t give up on a day because you had a bad morning (or lunch hour, or just a bad moment). I’ve had to really contend with this, in the last year. It’s so easy to lose motivation, ambition, willpower – even hope – when things go south. But every breath you take is a chance to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start again. Don’t wait. Don’t waste precious seconds of your life.
You’ll be scared. Do it anyway.
Hit send on that email. Type “Chapter One” on that blank page, and then keep typing. Send that text, make that phone call, book that ticket. If it’s important to you, do it, even if it scares you. You’re afraid because you care. And because you care, it’s worth doing. So do it.
************
It’s been a strange year for me. So many ups and downs, moments of absolute relief, and joy, moments of abject fear, of sadness and worry. But it’s been good. I’m glad to be here, to be alive and to be working and loving and trying and singing and dancing (badly) and eating and breathing. And so as I close out my 2021, I look forward, and know that every step I take matters.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 