What? New Years already? I know it may sound strange, but that’s what this time is for me—and always has been. When I was a kid the final days of summer marked an end to my untethered happiness and freedom. The start of school threatened to undermine my sense of well-being as visions of long hours trapped indoors permeated every bone in my body—lowering a cold, dark veil of doom. I can’t help but think that my feelings of malaise, which tend to surface toward the end of each summer, might very well stem from these strong childhood emotions. Intellectually, I understand that this state is very confining and limiting, but it still takes a bit of an attitude adjustment to move past it.
Later, as an adult, this time of year had me preparing and beginning a new session of dance classes at the studio, along with the collaborative decision of what story ballet would be our focus that year. It was all so new and exciting each time, launching our whole family and so many wonderful Ramona dancers into another cohesive work of art, incorporating music, choreography, dramatics, gymnastics, costuming, dancing, backdrops… It developed a life of its own; one that I feel extremely grateful to have been able to enjoy for so many decades.
This fall ushers in a new school year, and the weather begins to cool ever so slightly. The sun arcs across a lower part of the sky casting longer shadows and yellowing light. Vacations come to an end, extra-curricular activities fill children’s after-school hours, the holidays slide into view… And the thought of another year of not getting together (indoors) with relatives puts a damper on what we can safely look forward to.
But as The New Year awakens, there are glimmers of hope out there. The deer are still going about their business here in the canyon and more are coming in closer for water and food. Rutting season is approaching—so there’s that. Something to look forward to? This past spring’s young, who still look so vulnerable, may not think so. But who knows? I certainly don’t.
But this is the time of year when I reassess the things I’ve been doing: projects, writing, puttering, attaining or not attaining goals… and do some hard thinking about my priorities. Am I fulfilling my obligations to myself, family and community? Am I being productive enough to keep me satisfied? What can I reasonably look forward to for the coming year(s)? Not that I come up with all the answers—or even close. But for me, it beats frittering my time away without at least contemplating the alternatives.
Sometimes one day can drag on as if it were five while others disappear in the blink of an eye. This year has flown by and I find myself trying to grab it by the tail and ride it into the next—hoping (beyond hope?) that we will come out of this pandemic intact and perhaps better for it.
No matter what all this may mean for each of us—I wish you all A Happy New Year!
Chi Varnado has four newly published books. The Old House in the Country, women’s fiction; and three YA novels in The Dance Centre Presents series. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com. You can follow her on Instagram or on www.Facebook.com/dancecentrepresents.
