Happy New Year, 2021.

I love the song “Auld Lang Syne.”

I love it the most when Leslie Odom, Jr., sings it from the Alexa on my kitchen counter, his smooth voice at a fixed and lovely Volume Five so I can still hear my kids talk, the dogs bark, the phone ring, and the text messages ding. But up until recently, I never really listened to the words or understood what they meant. Admittedly, I had to google how to spell “Auld Lang Syne,” and then I had to ask Siri what the hell it meant.

Auld Lang Syne literally means “Old Long Since,” and it is a nod to the olden days. A subtle “Hey, past, see ya later. But we good? Cool. Let’s head into the future but don’t worry, I’m not going to forget you, I’m just goin’ to keep on, keepin’ on.”

I think that everyone wants to forget the abyss of 2020. It’s an infamous year for sure. With nicknames like Dumpster Fire, Shit Storm and Disaster, it’s no wonder why 2020 became its own curse word. And as we all go to bed tonight; no one would blame us for hoping that 2021 is like that scene from the movie, “Trolls” when Poppy sings “True Colors” and all those fabulous little trolls shine and sparkle again. It’s a beautiful reminder that the good outweighs the bad and the light shines brightest after the darkness.

Yesterday, I looked back at what I had wrote on March 25, 2020, a week after the pandemic became everything. A week after we were all locked down and masked up and the unknown was the only thing we knew. A week after I felt like life was big and scary. The last few months have been particularly tough for my family. In November, I tragically and violently lost a cousin, our good friend was hospitalized with COVID, and the smallest of all the problems, I broke my pinky during a “very important” flag football game. Moms against 8 year olds. I would love to say I caught a game-winning touchdown. But nope. I broke it during half-time, tossing the ball with a friend. The 8 year olds won. The humans who birthed them lost. I learned a lot that month. Some things I knew. Some I didn’t. Death doesn’t affect you until it does. COVID isn’t a big deal in your life until it is. The pinky finger doesn’t matter until you can’t use it. Seriously. The pinky finger is the gatekeeper for the enter button on your keyboard.

My circle of control hasn’t grown any bigger this year. If anything, it’s shrunk. But my perspective has grown. Life is not a linear path of good and bad. Beginnings or ends. It’s a curvy mess of uncertainties. And I have learned over this past year that fear and fortitude can exist together. Gratitude and grief are not enemies who stand on opposite sides. They sit together at the same table. They ride in the same car, on the same journey. They live in the same world and they can be felt at the same time. Maybe when we say goodbye to 2020 tonight, we don’t flip it off, but instead we tip our hats a little bit to what it’s taught us – humility, grace, and perseverance.

Happy New Year, everyone.

January 1, 2021