You were mostly good to me. I can't deny it. You delivered new friends, a couple of paying writing gigs, a passion for taking photos. If not clarity, you brought me enough wisdom to stay calm and ruminate rather than follow in the footsteps of Tamara.
You aged my children 12 months. You took some teeth. You pushed both kids to learn to ride bikes on their own, without J. or I running behind them, holding onto the seats.
You scared me so much that I spent much of the first half of your year doubled over, losing weight. But you comforted too, with good people and chocolate covered coffee beans and paper lanterns.
In June, Fruit Bat, Kitty Cat and I took a late flight to my parents' house and stepped into their backyard, gazing up at trillions of stars speckling the black sky. We were dazzled by a satellite zipping overhead.
In August we spent one scorching week in New York and any fantasies I ever had of living there were crushed by claustrophobia and crazy-humid subway stations.
Fruit Bat started first grade in September and I worried so hard for his seeming ennui toward making friends. But he's mostly come through and is socially good now, I think.
For a while, we thought Kitty Cat had celiac disease. Though her blood tests continue to come back positive, we're going with the endoscopy report that says she's clear. Something still bugs her, as she's eating. But I don't know what. And, frankly, with Fruit Bat's food issues, I haven't had the energy to delve further into Kitty Cat's GI ticks.
And then there was the unbloggable. Always the unbloggable.
2009, you inspired me to start writing a young adult novel--something I've always wanted to do--and I'm loving it. You introduced me to new All Adither readers, many of them also writers, and turned my blog ass over tea kettle, leading to a drop in traffic and comments. But you also handed me a new truth and made me realize that it's okay for this small place on the internet to be my creative dumping ground. If people want to read it, they will. If not, that's fine too. It's the one place I'm not caring too much about pleasing anyone but myself.
You've been a pretty rich year, kid. Thanks for that. I wonder what your successor holds in store.