Yesterday the People of LWON discussed our hopes for 2020. Today, we reflect on what we hope to leave behind.
Ann: Serious answer is, that’s a little complicated. After a certain point in life, you’ve got more behind you than in front and surely it would be blind-stupid graceless to not weigh carefully what you want left behind. Given that, some things I’m just glad are over with — cataract surgery, a medically-uninteresting fainting spell, the argument with my neighbor over parking, the old friend I gave up on being friends with, the office next to the guy without an indoor voice. All small stuff. Anything big to leave behind? Not that I can think of. Isn’t that nice?
Jenny: I’m with Ann…as time passes the “leave behind” and “look ahead” questions loom large. But it’s not hard to find things to brush away: For me, a painful choice for my dear old dad, a long stretch of angry gut, a favorite aunt’s memory reaching its end. Also, a really ugly screen door (replaced by a beautiful mahogany one–I can share a photo if anyone cares) and self doubt about just about everything. Not that that last one will ever be gone gone, but I hope to continue to chip away at it. Perhaps that’s one good thing about getting older: We learn to care less about what we can’t control.
Emily: Most of the things I’d like to leave behind from 2019 are not going anywhere in 2020, or if there’s a chance they might go, I don’t want to jinx it. Like Ann and Jenny, there are a lot of things I’m hoping will stick around a little longer, like my 1999 Honda Civic hatchback, which just cruised past 200,000 miles. We had a washing machine that wouldn’t spin properly, leaving all our clothes sopping wet — so I’m glad that’s gone. But aside from the political dumpster fires we’re all sick of, there aren’t many things from 2019 I’m desperate to say goodbye to. I must have had a pretty good year.
Ben: I’m looking forward to leaving behind the disorientation that comes with living in a new place — in our case, Spokane, where we moved in July 2018. Yes, the process of discovery is exciting, but it’s also discombobulating to go through life without a go-to bar, hiking trail, or fishing hole, and it’s frustrating to know little of the environmental history of the place you live. Now that we’ve had a year and a half to explore, study up, and get settled, I feel less like an interloper in someone else’s town, and more like a local in mine.
Cassandra: All of the physical discomforts of pregnancy: Skin stretched so tight it burns and itches. The near-constant ache that comes with the brutal and unwelcome expansion of my ribcage. Back pain. A huge appetite accompanied by a stomach no bigger than a teacup. Forced abstinence. I could go on (and on and on and on), but I’ll leave it there.
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Image courtesy of Sherman W. via Flickr