2002 was marked with fear, uncertainty, change and promise for me. in august of 2001 i asked kelly to marry me. april 26, 2002 was the date we married. in between, i struggled to keep myself together, mentally and physically. work had hit a bit of a slide, and a number of folks that i counted as friends at work were let go, and for the first time i really felt vulnerable.
with my usual candor, i didn’t let myself (or the world) know of what was weighing on my mind. instead, it manifested itself into the physical, causing me to have strange stomach pains (not really pains, just pressure). that was early on in january — and even after it was diagnosed as gastritis in february, it continued on until after the wedding. my hypochondriacal ways would not let me believe that it was merely stress, and in those early winter days of january i fell into a walking catatonia of irrational, crippling fear. spring came, and with the ‘ok’ diagnosis, my spirits lifted.
in April, we were to be wed. Never before had I greeted a more confusing array of emotions, some of which still linger. I assumed I would feel anxious, worried, happy, exstatic. What I felt was fear. Fear of the future, fear of the past, fear of confusion of my own emotions. After all — I had just duped myself into believing I could die just because of a little stiff heartburn.
The honeymoon were quite possibly the two most liberating weeks of my life, and I shall never forget them. Kelly and I were free from the cares of the world, free from tomorrow and yesterday, no map and no plan. The beauty I beheld there lies ingrained in my heart.
Summer brought news that some people that I cared deeply for could be taking leave of this town for what to me seemed eternity. I rely upon my friends more than they may ever know, and knowing that some of them could be leaving town shook me to the core.
Summer also brought about a passion shared between friends in the form of baseball. It felt good to be on that field, under the fawning evening sun. So little can be said when playing catch, but so much can be understood. I felt as if an old bonds had been renewed, and new ones forged.
Fall came about with a new home, and Kelly and I leaving our now-beloved Highlands. Though with that sadness came an unexpected feeling of accomplishment and safety. I had found a vigor in this feat of building — building that I was instructed to continue by the wisest of counsel.
This winter has come in a fairer fashion that last years’ cold and looming silence. Kelly and I decorated our house together, and hosted our own holiday for the first time. It gave me great joy to do that with her. Our house felt like the home I had been away from for so long. The holidays did not stay long enough.
This year was the first year in many that all of our friends were not present for a New Years Eve celebration. Though I suppose that is the moral of this past year, as New Years Eve 2002 looks back upon a year where I learned much about change and the fear of it. Change makes the future different from the past, and the ability to discern that — and relish in it is uniquely human, I think. I have learned much, but am still ignorant in these parts.
Last year saw fear fade into promise, and I intend to continue on that path. My sole resolution this year is to be a better friend. That encompasses a great deal, I hope. The people I hold so dear, I hold at an arms length, and rely upon them at a strange distance that finds me alone in my thoughts too often.
So here is to a new year — I know not what it holds, but I shall endeavor to learn from what it offers.
