There are certain conversations that just stick with me. When a church member told my sister how beautiful and lady-like she was and then told me that I was gangly and awkward. When B first told me he loved me. And that time I told someone that I loved moving.
I was in grad school, almost done, and looking forward to relocating as soon as my last tests were taken. I proclaimed my love of moving. I relished the fresh start and craved the clean slate. She looked at me as if I was crazy and told me that I should probably peer deep into my soul, because something must be wrong with me if I constantly felt the need to start over.
New years are blank slates, three hundred and sixty-five days just waiting to be lived. No bad memories. Nothing but bright expectations and hopeful futures. The dust of the previous year is washed away.
This past year ended with another move. More hanging in the balance. Plenty of waiting left to do.
Yet, 2015 will be the year to set us on the path of the rest of our lives. It will see us find our post-military jobs. We’ll celebrate my 30th, our 5th, his 28th. We’ll build a new home together and search for a place where we only pay ourselves.
All I want to do in 2015 is live fully. We have a fresh start, a blank slate, and I want to write the best chapter yet.