While 2021 brought incredible beginnings, 2022 looks like whiplash on steroids. After selling my parents’ home on Long Beach Island, I felt a physical ache. My place of solstice and peace was gone. A random call from a realtor about an area we had never considered and a price that gave us palpitations, we wrote a new chapter and bought a house in Barnegat Light. It is smaller, so we are cramped when we are all under the same roof, but the memories will be abundant. We closed in February and embraced making it ours. As a twist of fate, Rich caught Covid, and the quarantine blessed us with plenty of time for him to whittle down the “to do” list.
March brought us Ryder Gray, our third grandson. He is a smiley, curious kid that wants to copy his older brother’s every move. In October, Calla Capri was born, our first granddaughter. Her delicate features are a contrast to her brother and cousins. To wrap the year, we felt the sparkle of Ashton and Paul announcing their engagement. Despite the obstacles, 2021 will be a tough year to beat.
Work continues to be a challenge for everyone with long hours and constant pressure to do more with limited resources. My CEO reminded me to do what I was hired to do and not everything else. If I could share any advice with my younger self, it would be to stop being so damn helpful. It demeans your authority. No one thinks you are doing an exceptional job; they view you as tactical without a strategic vision.
The college. I eased out of the chair role by accepting the role of the finance committee chair. My goal was to bring the areas of revenue generation into the spotlight. Mission accomplished – next. As a true Sagittarian, I am growing restless and looking for the next hill to climb.
My mother continues to drive a divide among her children, and I trudge through the seven stages of grief. I tend to vacillate between reconstruction and hope. My sister is always there to “do the right thing,” and my brother undoes it. I feel incredibly guilty when I hear my friends talk about how much they miss their mothers, and I don’t feel the same. Mine left me years ago, and I don’t know this person. I miss her.
After 41 years of hosting the extended Christmas holiday, I am trying to accept the next chapter. Covid, distance, and sibling friction all played a part in the demise. When one door closes…
This year my mantra will be to hang on. It’s only January 1st, and the changes have been fast and extreme. My constants are shifting like the San Andreas fault, and the only way I will come out standing on my feet will be to accept the things I cannot control and move with them. This is entirely out of character, but I am not sure I have a choice.
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