2012

2012. I like the sound of it. 2011 was a year of Big Changes. This one is going to be a year of Grand Adventures.

I love the possibilities.

We wrapped up the Old Year in high gear. Lots of visits with wonderful new friends and treasured old friends. Hugs for grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles. Fabulous food and far too much drink. And a bit of the Christmas flu complete with fever, aches, and the ever-popular vomiting. Life always offers some twists and turns, doesn’t it?

We’ve been quoting “Shit Girls Say” and “Honey Badger” ad nauseum. We’re sophomoric that way. We’ve been playing family games, yelling, laughing, loving. And sleeping. Lots of sleeping.

We reveled in the beauty of friendship, in the unbreakable bonds of family, in the magic of the season. Beyond the gifts and the wrapping paper and Jenny’s gorgeously-rendered bows and Jeryl’s stunning “plating”… was love. Just love. And Kirsten’s warm (and sometimes a wee bit sinister) giggle. And Mary’s belly laugh. And Amy’s larger-than-life smile. And hugs. And Jocey’s Cindy-Lou-Who pigtails. And Reese’s face-painting prowess. And the joy of new friends (Hi, Debbie! Hey, Carolyn!). And Mara’s growing tummy. And Andi’s “I know, right?” And Mom’s shakily handwritten notes. And Jean and Dave’s cookie hallway. And laughter, much laughter.

What matters? What matters?

Last night we arrived home after ten hours in the car to a house filled with canine hair-tumbleweeds, muddy footprints, and ecstatic tail-wagging. The guinea pig cage stunk to high heavens, but he squealed when we greeted him and called him by name (Francisco! That’s fun to say!). The frog was too cool to show any emotion. We slept in our own beds, nestled back into our lives.

I received a job offer on the way home and spent the better part of ten hours thinking, computing, digesting. If I took it, I would get to work with a woman who seemed pretty amazing. She would be a good mentor, probably a good friend as well. The pay is low — very low, and the hours are high. My writing beckons, feels a bit strangled by the time I would spend in the office. It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t think it’s the one.

I’ve never listened to my gut before. My head always seems to get in the way. There are SO many voices in there, after all. It’s like spending my entire life in the middle of Grand Central Station. But in 2012, I intend to do things a bit differently.

Mississippi has taught me how to slow down. And I’m learning. I’m listening. I’m feeling. I’m being. Instead of just trying to keep up with life, I plan to be one with life, to move in unison with it. To feel and love and exist more deeply.

I’m not sure what that looks like yet, and the A+++ side of me is screaming for a mapped-out, well-diagrammed plan. But my gut says, “Let it be.” Mary says, “Aught!” and Stella, Craig, and I all back off.

Welcome, 2012. Can’t wait to get to know you better.

Advertisements

About Katrina Anne Willis

Professional copywriter, author, friend, lover, dreamer, drinker of red wine.
This entry was posted in Big Thinks, Help From My Friends, We Are Family and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to 2012

  1. ahblack57 says:

    Listening to your gut is not a bad thing. I do it. Especially when it’s empty, and then I fill it with what is important—like writing, family, and red wine!

  2. Mary says:

    It’ll be right because you decided it. “Aught! Leave it!” Love you.

  3. Cheers to you, friend!

  4. Debbie dyson says:

    I made the blog, I made the blog! I agree…listening to the gut is the thing to do right now. Big changes ahead….

  5. Jeryl says:

    Go for the gut!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s