Open Letter to 2009

Dear 2009,

Thank you.

I saw you come through different eyes than I will see you go. You gave me moments of happiness the likes of which I never believed possible for me. Winter wasn’t so cold. Spring wasn’t so wet. And Summer…well Summer I fell in love with you all over again.

Just like 2008, I stumbled forth blindly into your arms, seeking your gentle embrace, putting all of my faith into a reassurance I knew wouldn’t come, but continued to foolishly hoped for.

2009 you have tested me.

You jumped on my back and laughed while I struggled to carry you, adding more weight when I felt my back would break with the burden of you.

And you gave me no choice. Time is cruel in its unrelenting pursuit of our most precious assets.

At some point during your pursuit I surrendered to the notion that I have no control over what you had in store for me.

But 2009 you didn’t get the best of me.

I gave you an effort that was unmercifully halfhearted. A reluctance that was unmovable. I unleashed a stubbornness to fight you that made it impossible for me to accept the plan you had so circumspectly mapped out for me.

I sat under you, kicking my legs, heaving you off of me, escaping your defeat of me every time you tried to force me to submit.

And I fought so hard I became tired. And ultimately I grew too weary to deter you any longer.

What happened at that point changed everything.

And even on the very last day of you, everything is still changing for me.

2006, 2007, 2008, you put me to sleep. 2009 woke me up.

So thank you.

I somehow think you always knew I would submit to you, sagaciously encouraging me in your own way to keep hauling you around; that the end somehow would justify a means so burdensome.

You reinvented me 2009.

In my new opinion, 2010 doesn’t stand a chance.

Happy New Year everyone, but mostly I think, to me.

Love,
Megan

And the most she will do is throw shadows at you.

Taking a look back....

Another year, another chance to take a good hard look at yourself.

I guess I look back at this year with a kind of bittersweet fondness, like a mother watching from the family van, as her child goes off to college. All that time, effort and care that went into shaping them for the future, just to watch them walk off into the distance and make the same mistakes that you did.

For all its ups and downs, this has been an amazing year for me. I know I've changed a lot--gained back some of the self-assuredness that somehow I lost along the way. I still worry about getting hurt although I have found myself to be suprisingly unguarded. That was something I didn't expect.

I've grown closer to some people and further from others. I don't try to hold so tightly to the past anymore, instead I've traded it in for more room for my future, like an empty parking spot in a garage full of new experiences.

This year I have loved and lost so continuously that it doesn't scare me anymore. Each major heartbreak always offset by a minor victory, showing me what's important in the scheme of things. I've given up on believing in absolutes and finalities.

I still dive head first into things, falling in love with everyone I meet. But instead of looking at that as a bad thing, as something to strive to change, I've embraced it as one of my best qualities.

I look at relationships differently. It's like I've taken a baseball bat and swung blindly, shattering the perfect snow globe into millions of little pieces, exposing what's really inside; two dimensional people forced to stand in front of a fake background for eternity. Meanwhile trying to weather the storm each time life decides to flip you upside down and shake.

It turns out, you better really like who's in there with you.

I've called old friends, traveled alone, read more books, moved to a city I adore. I've realized that I know I'm alone if I am with or without you and have accepted that as an impossibility that will always haunt our pasts, presents and futures. It's changed what I see when I fast forward my life.

But not who.

I've decided not to settle down or for anything less. That without a little drama, life would be just a bunch of Tuesdays. That I'm not perfect, but I'm not sure that's what I'm looking for anymore. To always be kind and questioning. To stop sparing my feelings for your own. And most importantly, that no matter how old I get, I can always come home and feel like a kid again.

And I like that.

So here's to a year of lasts, of firsts, of in betweens and maybes. A year of warmth and discovery and forgiveness.

Here's to a present of cheap tabs and excitement, of late nights, vulnerability and impulsiveness.

And here's to a future of infinite possibilities, to the certainty of trips and stumbles along the way and the hope that when and where I do fall, the ground will always be soft and forgiving.