2018 surprised me every day.
2018 drove me away from the news for the sake of my sanity, then drew me back in, obsessively.
2018 had me fearful for our democracy and then, poignantly, hopeful. (Is poignant appropriate in talking about oneself?).
2018 gave me Get Out! and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, The Witch Elm and Fancy Nancy, which did nothing to balance out the fact that it was safer to be deployed in Afghanistan than it was to go to school in the USofA.
2018 saw teenagers calling B.S. and FlapJilly adding simple sums, Giblet smiling out from behind those cheeks and many more diagnoses and deaths than I'd noticed before.
Time passed and I was here to see it - by definition that makes it a good year, if I'm true to my post-perforated self. I tried to say yes to new adventures, to thank those who brought me joy, to appreciate each day for what it had, not what it might have been.
Gabby's mother says No yesterdays. Only tomorrows.
Happy End of 2018!
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