To all of you who have shared the journey with me so far, thank you. I am so much less afraid of what other people think of me, and while I still have things to do, and learn, and grow into, I have settled into a life that I love. I am pleased to announce that in 32 years I have become more relaxed. 2022 will not be an easy year (and as someone who is merely pretending not to be halfway through it, I can feel fairly confident in my prophecy here), but the anchors that have always kept us from floating adrift remain available to us: time in the outdoors, good books, family, friends, cups of tea and quiet nights curled up on the couch. In a time in which so much of the fabric of our lives is threaded with fear, it is my sincere wish for all of us that we find strands of hope to cling to. The new school year is one of mandated mask-wearing and uncertainty, but I choose to face it bravely. My definition of family has widened and I have found myself surrounded by individuals who have held me close in a time in which it often felt like people needed to be pushed away. In the meantime, though, I have made a life here that makes me very happy. I have missed my friends and it is good to have them back. For now (despite the fears about what coronavirus might do to this island), the trickling in of people I have been without-all returning for the summer months-is a surprise and a delight. Now that the borders are open between Tasmania and the rest of the country (and world), the opportunities to travel further are inbound. We still live in an unprecedented time, there is no doubt about it, but at the heart of it we can always find good people. There was the great thawing of our local arts scene as the years of cancelled shows and events finally came back to life. Although thirty-one did not see me leaving the state, there were all of the memories that I created here, running and hiking (with a return to the Overland Track) and exploring its small towns and strange corners with my friends. There was my own achievement in completing the process to qualify me as a respite foster carer. There were the students facing what, for many, would be insurmountable odds who nevertheless achieved amazing things: my overall results for school were the best that I have ever had. Covid crept closer to me, with a number of lucky escapes, but I made it, yet again, without the dreaded virus catching me.Īnd of course there were moments to celebrate. It seemed to me that I was like a bird being released into and out of its cage each morning. Ninety-percent of the time school felt normal. The thing that I was perhaps most grateful for was that I got to walk into classes full of students and teach, almost completely without fear. In our bubble, we got to hold each other close. Tasmania got very lucky with coronavirus-in the sense that it quickly and unflinchingly shut up shop to the outside world-but there was also a sense of foreboding: we were always waiting for the fall, floating in a state of uncertainty. So here I am, halfway through thirty-two, trying to make sense of what came before. There is only one way to fix such a deficit. In my mission to prove her wrong, however, it doesn’t take too much scrolling to bounce straight back to the post where I turned thirty-one. I have consistently posted something-on my birthday or just after it-for the last decade. I don’t just “not write” a birthday blog. “You didn’t write a birthday blog this year,” she tells me.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |