I think, at this point, the world is exhausted of this year. And, truly – logistically, it is time to bid it farewell. Just about 366 days – lived and gone. A fresh set of days, weeks, and months – waiting in the wings. For better or for worse. But, I feel it is safe to say – we would all love for the this new block of time, to be for the better…

As with most – this year kicked my butt, for sure. But, it also showed me, taught me – so much. How to convert a brick and mortar book store into an online book distribution center, for one. How to never assume I can run said book distribution center alone during the holidays – even during a Pandemic, is another really big one. Who my people are. Both the Bee Hive’s beautiful tried and true; and in my personal life – those that consistently showed up for me – even if sometimes I’ve been too crazy or pooped to show up for them. How amazing, resilient,and delightful Cash and Olive are. But, even for all their amazing-ness, resilience, and delightful-ness – they still absolutely need their people, their friends, their tribe. And, that without that – 10-year-olds get really sad.

I have been given a screeching-loud wake up call about how my lack of action and speaking out made me complicit in the despicable state of Race Relations in this country. I have been taking a hard look at my own tendencies and it is a long-overdue slap in the face for me. One that, I hope, will stay with me, and keep me mindful, conscious, and present about something that I just can not and will not tolerate in myself.  

One night of continuously texting photos to a friend and professional bread-baker, taught me a much needed lesson about the importance of hydration in bread baking. His patience and insistence – more, more, more – made it finally click for me after many, many years of cooking and baking – that there is no such thing as too much moisture in dough. It has transformed my life! And my baking! Not just my bread, but pizza dough, cinnamon rolls, pie crusts – are so much better. I continue to work on my bread, because it has provided a source of great yumminess and comfort for my family this year, but also, because of Covid and my friend needing to be extra careful – he hasn’t tasted my bread yet. And, when he finally does – I want him to see – I was paying attention during those late night tutorials.

As with most – this year kicked my butt, for sure. But, it also showed me, taught me – so much.

My daughter has been learning Latin this year. And, it turns out, has quite an ear for it. Cash and I, sort of, have been learning alongside her as she teaches us with her very drawn out, slow pronunciations. I am now referred to as mater and Cash is referred to as fraterculus. One particularly memorable afternoon, as the three of us sat around the kitchen table drinking tea – Olive brought out her Latin workbook and taught us all sorts of very important words – like tunic and wax tablet and writing plume. I was delighted to learn some Latin! I asked Olive – what about How are you? or Good afternoon? Yeah – nope. Nothing like that. Right! I learned – by way of my very bright daughter – what a dead language truly means. And that sometimes, tunics and waxed tablets are all you really need…

This was a year that really reminded me – drilled into me, really – the importance of books and movies and music. Movies for entertainment (thank god) and escapism. Books – for me, who spends my days surrounded by all things books, it was a year that reaquainted me with actually reading. I’ve craved it. I can’t get enough. During a time when I have been often exhausted, and sometimes a tad depressed – stories and characters, truly in the thick of the human experience, have been the only place I wanted to be. Books have always been company for my deeply introverted nature – so validating and soothing. This year, that’s been magnified by 100%. And, I think, probably saved me from going down any really dark hole. Music, for me has been a total distraction. I can not stop looking for the perfect song for whatever playlist I happen to be working on – and there have been many. Music has been complete poetry for me. And, a much needed balm.

The lessons haven’t been all bad.

But they haven’t been all welcome.

The day after Christmas, I got word that one of the most wonderful people I have ever known, passed away that morning. I immediately sunk to my kitchen floor and wept. And, I couldn’t stop. As I grieved in a way that actually surprised me in its depth – it occurred to me, that I was just one of many many many many people who have experienced the loss, the injustice, the confusion, the disorientation of all that this year has taken…stolen. In that moment I was profoundly moved by how few have been untouched by 2020’s long-reaching tentacles of death and pain, heartache and suffering.

It has been enough – I think.

Enough lessons.

Hopefully, this new year – this new block of time – will be a little less about lessons. And, instead, move us closer to living again.