Every night, a million words hover and swirl around my head before my eyes close. They blink in and out, alternating in bold whites and varying shades of gray -- as if in competition against one another. The competition goes on for what seems like hours, and by the time my lids fall like lead, I can never tell which word finally prevails.
I guess that's why people who can pick out one single word to encompass New Year's resolutions, hopes, dreams and themes amaze me.
There are just too many words. At least for me there are.
The last Thursday of the year, I went through the usual morning motions: made the bed, brushed my teeth, refreshed the dog's water dish and poured a cup of coffee with just enough cream so the color matched my skin. I sneaked a cigarette and, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, sat on the porch despite a biting wind that came with morning rain.
Words, in list form, blew in and out with cold blasts of air, and I fanned them away in favor of the tree across the street whose skeletal branches were in sharp contrast to gray sky. A solitary bird was perched on a weird angle, not resting atop a branch, but along the tree's trunk.
I guess that's why people who can pick out one single word to encompass New Year's resolutions, hopes, dreams and themes amaze me.
There are just too many words. At least for me there are.
The last Thursday of the year, I went through the usual morning motions: made the bed, brushed my teeth, refreshed the dog's water dish and poured a cup of coffee with just enough cream so the color matched my skin. I sneaked a cigarette and, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, sat on the porch despite a biting wind that came with morning rain.
Words, in list form, blew in and out with cold blasts of air, and I fanned them away in favor of the tree across the street whose skeletal branches were in sharp contrast to gray sky. A solitary bird was perched on a weird angle, not resting atop a branch, but along the tree's trunk.
Now, from time to time, you can hear woodpeckers around our neighborhood, and on the rarest of occasions, you can see them. Was this little guy a woodpecker? I trained my eye to see the little bird's color, but gray skies suck the color out of everything around them.
I don't know -- maybe gray skies are jealous of cardinal red, royal blue, silky brown or fiery orange. Or, maybe colors just don't have the strength to fight against them when gray is the backdrop that hovers over everything colors are and do.
A clear blue sky, on the other hand, pulls disparate colors into laser focus, like tiny green buds that pop from momma branches in May, or earthy yellow grass patches in need of TLC, or the elusive woodpecker that you hear and rarely see.
In my little corner of the world, the past 360 days have brought more overcast gray skies than blue. Oh sure, there's been days filled with joy, thankfulness, inspiration, struggles and belly-laughs. But if I'm being honest, I've let the gray seep into and tinge these colorful days.
Instead of a word, I'll choose a color to guide the upcoming year.
I CHOOSE BLUE.
...and gold and umber and evergreen and charcoal and all colors in between.
No, blue won't help melt the weight others have lost and that I've found. Blue won't magically pull me out of debt; and it certainly won't help me become an organization maven.
Blue won't help any of those things, but the thought of this simple color will help me clear gray clouds from time to time, and see reality -- be it political, spiritual, familial, cultural (and all the other als, ials & isms) AND ME -- in their technicolor differences.
I guess I'm hoping blue will help me see more clearly...and remind me not to let gray color all the colors.
Whether you choose a word or a color for 2019, I'm wishing everyone a Happy and Colorful New Year.
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