As each year winds to a
close, people everywhere celebrate the onset of the new year. They
seem happy and excited that a new year is upon us. I think I can
remember that feeling but certainly not lately. The idea that a new
year can be filled with wondrous anticipation of great things to come
seems foreign to me. I get asked what my plans for New Year's Eve
are and, I have to say that I wait by the door close to midnight so
that I can kick the old year in the ass on its way out.
Now I look to a new year
with dread. I wonder what tragedy will transpire in the coming twelve
months. This feeling is not unfounded. The past three years have
been challenging at best. Honestly, if we wipe October off the
calendar permanently, I'd be thrilled. October 2016 brought us
Hurricane Matthew. My house was destroyed with three feet of water in
the house making it uninhabitable for five months. The clean up was
huge and exhausting. I was lucky to be able to move into a small, RV
trailer in my yard while the house was under rehabilitation. The
holidays that year were spent at restaurants and inns as there was no
way to have family over or cook big meals. Spring brought renewal
and a move back into the house accompanied by a feeling that I had
survived a major disaster. I began to believe that this was a once
in a lifetime event and I could breathe easier knowing that this time
had passed and I could look to the future with hope to regain a
'normal life'. People kept telling me that, while the experience was
bad, “it could have been worse”.
October 2017 brought us
Hurricane Irma. Once again, my house flooded, although not as bad as
Matthew, but still required major clean up and loss of personal
belongings. Having lost my good buddy of 16 years (my little dog)
just the month before, I was once again devastated. Two hurricanes in
8 months seemed unreal. Once again I watched my neighbors drag wet,
ruined belongings out of their homes and pile them in the front yard
for trash removal. My lovely yard, which was just beginning to
recover the damage from salt water the previous year, died a long
slow death. Also, unlike Matthew, Irma brought wind damage and the
debris from tree limbs, leaves, vines and more was piled up waist
deep in my yard. My heart sank as I undertook yet another major
clean up and restoration. While the interior of the house survived
intact, except the garage and everything in it, I was consoled by
friends and family with the “it could have been worse” advice. At
this point it started to sound more like a curse than an empathetic
statement.
New Year's 2018 started with
that feeling of anticipation and trepidation a new year brings. I had
hopes for a hurricane free year and this proved true. But once
again, October 2018 brought another disaster. I had almost made it
through the month unscathed, but on the next to the last day of the
month, I fell and severely broke my leg and dislocated my right
shoulder. I wound up in the hospital needing surgery to install a
plate and screws in my leg with stern restrictions from the doctor to
stay completely off the leg for three months. I am now in the the
third month of this latest set back with a long recovery ahead.
Now as I look at 2019, I am
tempted to refuse to move forward. I'd like to just re-set the year
back to 2018, minus October. I know for certain that the coming
October will be spent locked in a closet for all of the 31 days
trying to avoid another horrible event. And for everyone who would
like to say that “it could be worse”, well it sure as hell could
have been a lot better!
Hope your New Year is filled
with everything good. I will be happy for one that is uneventful.
