verge (vʉrj)
noun
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

verg′·ing
to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight




Thursday, December 31, 2009

Dear 2009



Lucky
October 24, 2009

Dear 2009,

It's very hard to let you go, but the time has come.  You will take with you treasures I have held so close, and then you'll very matter-of-factly place just them beyond time's reach.

I will miss Lucky, who quietly stood in the doorway saying hello, with his unassuming smile and crooked ears, and an optimistic handshake.  We walked under cool white pines on soft cushiony needles, and we would spy on the mergansers in the pond.  Remember how they always noticed us, no matter how invisible we made ourselves? You never asked for much, and in the end, you left more than you ever took.  How did you do that?

And Diane, who wasn't ready and didn't want to go, but then went anyway.  I have your old red shirt, dear friend.  And your forever wishes. Your determination was trumped only by your courage. You did it so well.  How you did that.....

And 2009, you'll take with you my precious memories of Stuart and its little white birds who dazzled me so, and then in one sudden gust...were gone.   I savored their presence and grieved in their absence, and learned from them the solitude of freedom, and the changelessness of change.  White birds--they don't stay long, but they stick with you forever. How do they do...

But 2009, I gladly leave with you one whopping college tuition bill, a finicky furnace and deadbeat dishwasher,  and the crumpled back end of a (new) Toyota Corolla.  I also leave you my forties, 20/20 vision, my short term memory, and all hope of ever getting them back.

And in between these shades of goodbye are budding beams of hello, and these new beams flirt me forward, offering a platter of possibility more abundant and colorful than I could ever imagine.  I step forward in this 50 year old rig with the license to not care what you think about what I do, or how I look doing it. I have a blog to write! I look forward to two more college tuition bills, maybe lots of work--and then again--maybe not, and more dances to dance. I look forward to walking Reilly down the Champs Elysees, to transition-dating my way to freedom, to selling my house, to kibitzing with devil-dawgs Pam, Jess, Ellen, Brian, Peter, Mary-Claire, Lori, Gerry, Mike, Jimmy, and Tobi, and to being my new-old self.

But 2009, I will be taking my greatest treasures with me through the night and into the next year.  Sara, Libby, and Meredith, Mom, Dad, and Maeve, Mark and Genilson, Avery and Dave, Molly and Nell...I love you always, and thank you for being the bones.

Tonight brings the hardest of goodbyes, and the gentlest of hellos.  It's silent and still here tonight, dear 2009, and you will soon be gone.  But I'll still be right here, and I'll be just fine.

Peace,
Alice




2 comments:

  1. well hello Alice! I have found you and your new life on blogger of all places. I love your blog (will read more) and glad to know you are steaming along with your dogs in tow.

    I gave up my facebook because I like doing my blog better and have to limit computer time! So good I can keep in touch with you here!

    Happy 2010 LB

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  2. So great to hear from you, LB! I added your blog as a link...I love to visit your page. Your 4-leggeds are beautiful.

    Happy New Year!

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