Promises, promises

Here we go again. Another new year. Geez, they roll around faster and faster these days, don’t they? New beginnings, promises of change. Things will be better. Those stubborn 10 or 15 pounds will disappear for good this year. The clutter will be gone. We’ll reach out to that old friend. We’ll get on that strengthening program. Blah, blah, blah.

It’s the same old story, year after year. Resolutions, promises – all spoken with sheer determination this time. Yessiree, Bob! I’m right on it. Just as soon as I finish my tea and gaze out the window, I’ll hop right to it. Watch me go!

I learned a long time ago not to declare any big resolutions out loud. That’s a recipe for disaster right there. I can’t even imagine having a strong partner by my side trying to hold me to my flimsy promise of staying on task. I know myself well enough by now. I am very resistant to someone reminding me of my promise to get to the rec center every Tuesday. Or to keep my hand out of the cookie jar. Or to balance the checkbook and pay the bills. I guess I just don’t like being told what I already know needs doing. It’ll happen when the universe tells me it’s time.

For now, I do what doesn’t happen by itself – like my mother used to tell me, “These shoes won’t pick themselves up and walk to the closet!” – the cleaning and the cooking and the laundry, the daily minutiae. The rest, if the earth is agreeable, will happen in due course. Unless it doesn’t. I’m not making any promises or resolutions. What happens, happens. Like the T-shirt says, “I’m tired and I just don’t care that much anymore.”

My grandfather used to hand out little round discs with “To It” printed on them to people who promised to do something when they got “around to it.” It was pretty comical at the time. Now I wish I had one I could toss out willy-nilly when someone reminds me we were going to restart that walking program.

OK, OK, let me finish this chapter. This load of laundry. This letter to Shirley. My Wordle. I’ve got a million excuses to delay doing the things I really don’t want to do. I’ve got years of experience behind me – it’s time to start cashing in.

We’ll start from where we are today. No looking back. The past is the past. The 2026 calendar is standing by, its blank spaces waiting for the myriad doctor appointments that are sure to come. Hopefully some of those empty spaces will be filled with good things – meeting up with friends, taking short road trips to Amish country, maybe another bus trip. There are still many parts of this country we haven’t seen; we just don’t want the hassle of driving.

As I think about it, the phrase “So much to do, so little time” bounces into my head. I’m afraid at the pace we move, most of these experiences are likely to pass us by. More than likely, we’ll be armchair travelers.

In reality, I expect it to be a pretty exciting year as our country faces its 250th birthday. We won’t have to leave home to participate in the festivities – they’ll be brought straight into our homes via the electronic world – but if we want a parade, I’m sure we won’t be disappointed. I’m pretty sure there will be more than enough for all of us as the months slip by.

Stay tuned. This could be an exciting year. I may have to leave my comfort zone.