Wednesday, January 04, 2012

The New Year

Another year in my life and yours.

River rafting strikes me as a metaphor for life: when you're negotiating the turbulent rapids, your attention is focused on what is to come. But then, in the calm stretches, you have the luxury of looking back and wondering about the meaning hidden in the calm behind you.

Gee. That was so profound, I just want to hurl.

Things change. I learned that a couple of high school classmates died. Some coworkers went to other helicopter operators. People I know moved away from our area.

I came back from two weeks away from home last time, and I wondered if someone slipped some sort of growth formula into my kid's food: he looked nearly as tall as Rhonda, who's five-seven. Sure enough, I put him up against the growth chart, and my eleven year-old son, Dylan, is now five-five. He's grown an inch and a half since September. I fear, with teenage years on the horizon, that we'll have to take out a second mortgage just to feed him.

I realize that my writing dwindled more and more, so I made a modest New Year's resolution: I will write for a minimum of six hours per week. Blogging, working on the anthology, grocery lists, whatever: if I have to set my alarm for an hour earlier a few times a week, I'll get those hours in. Six hours ain't much compared to what serious writers put in, but it would be a marked improvement in output for me.

Happy New Year to all my friends out there, and may the rapids in your life be just frequent enough to give you a renewed appreciation for the calm waters.

But, not so frequent that you wanna hurl.