A Toast

And no, it’s not sourdough.

I’m a little melancholy tonight. That’s okay. I’m not going to force a positive attitude when I don’t have one. Tomorrow will probably be a better day and I’ll be positive then. That’s usually the way of things.

I do want to raise a proverbial glass, however, and toast the folks who have helped me survive this year–I’d endeavor to list you all out, but then I’d forget someone’s name and then feel like a real heel so I won’t. I feel heel-ish enough without piling on. Cheers to long walks at Mill Creek, river otters, and the changing season. To flowers and veggies and backyard birthday parties. Hurray for kitty cuddles, trashy romance novels, and bagels.

And here’s a toast to grief because every agonizing, painful breath is a reminder of exactly how much I love Bryan.

I have no illusions about 2024. Every year so far has been a mix of heart-wrenching and beautiful. I see no reason why this will be different in that respect. Hopefully the memories made will be interesting, funny, and quirky enough so I can tell good stories when I’m an old woman.

Love to you all. And if your new year isn’t happy, let it at least be funny.