Dear 2021,
We held our breath as you entered the scene. We’d just left a year full of unexpected plot twists and a nearly unbearable heaviness. We waited to exhale, for you to bring the moment we could finally breathe easy again.
But if that moment came, I think I missed it.
I’ll give you the credit of being less catastrophic than 2020, but you weren’t any less turbulent. We navigated every step with an eerie sense that it could all change at any moment. Uncertainty filtered every picture we tried to create for the future. With grief-filled hearts, we had to figure out how to keep moving forward in an unpredictable world.
You didn’t offer us the breath of fresh air we longed for, but we learned how to breathe again anyway. What you did give us was the opportunity to be human again.
Because the truth is, being human is wildly unpredictable, and I think we forgot that in the wake of 2020. Nothing is certain, even if the year before made us so eager to believe it once was or could ever be. Life— being human— is a gamble of hopes, dreams, and love. And you, 2021, existed to remind us of that.
To remind us that we aren’t guaranteed anything, but to try anyway.
To remind us we could lose everything, but to still take the shot.
To remind us that love is worth the risk.
To remind us to believe in something, even if it it turns out differently than we thought.
To remind us that the beauty in life isn’t in the expected, but in the unexpected.
To remind us how fragile and wonderful and hard and breathtaking and bitter and sweet and empty and full it is to be alive.
I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for being so gosh darn difficult so I could remember how strong humanity can be if we can just get over ourselves and our unmet expectations?
You were bittersweet and I loved you for your grand imperfection. Today I take the opportunity to breathe you in one last time, hold the breath for a long moment, and finally let it go.
Love,
Marilla