I think scraping the goodness out of something awful is like wiping your wet & mucky shoes on a welcome mat outside a cozy home.  It doesn’t necessarily help the situation unless you notice the transition of exiting a cold & damp space just to enter a warm one.  

Something I found rather interesting about 2020 was the damn constant scraping of the goodness, as though just a little bit of sugar could sprinkle atop the mess that was this year & make it just a tad less bitter.  & I do think it helped most people cope. unfortunately I felt incredibly split between recognizing hope & watching people suffer.  It’s difficult to believe the touch of your hands & the kindness of your eyes has the capacity to make an impact in a patient’s day. It’s difficult even still to hope for change, for healing, for goodness just to be catapulted into a cluster fuck of a shift where your hands feel rushed & your eyes reflect tensity. I have never been one to be cynical, I’m hopelessly hopeful in the face of tragedy & yet I believe being a part of another’s suffering includes your ability to be silent & gentle. & yet this whole year I have felt myself erasing. Erasing the faces of so many I’ve watched slowly die with only my hand as a comfort. Erasing memories of stressful, tear-filled nights. Erasing the calm, gentle spirit I try to embody as a nurse. Erasing hope, adventure, newness. 

At the end of December, Willy & I flew to Western Europe to re-write everything I had erased. & as we were driving through the countryside of Croatia, leafless, frozen forests decorating mountainsides, it suddenly struck me of the hopeful potential these trees hold. In the face of cold air & damn near constant rain, these creatures of the wind stand & wait for spring. 

I know most people’s years were incredibly hard & for most that’s the grossest understatement of the twenty first century.  & yet, for some 2020 was the year of perfect promises & complete newness. Many of my friends got married this year, a beautifully miraculous & equally crazy day. Many of my friends had babies this year or became pregnant after so many failed attempts. & many moved & fought, triumphed & failed over coronavirus. I know many who will say 2020 was a year of broken hearts & constant rain, while many will say it was a year of discovery amidst insecurity.  I think to declare an entire year as simply “good” or “bad” is robbing people of experiences that were different than your own.  In which case, I believe to deny people of celebrations as well as to deny people of personal sufferings is the ultimate complacency of humanity.  It is hard to celebrate when no part of you feels like celebrating & it is hard to sit with someone suffering when every part of you wants to celebrate. To which I wonder why we choose to live the way we live. For ourselves or for others? Or perhaps it is a combination of both. Perhaps we are all just trying to figure it out. To which kindness is an everyday wonder that decorates roads with golden lights & brings lonely hearts into a kitchen with a fireplace & fresh honey tea.