A Tale Of Two Cities

Literature.  A word that strikes fear in the hearts of many.  I personally happened to enjoy my lit classes in high school.  I remember my teachers:  Ms. Reynolds, Ms. Fragopoulos, and Ms. Anderson.  Some authors were more intriguing than others.  Dickens was kind of on the fence for me.  Didn't love him, didn't hate him. One of the most classic lines of his that I remember was "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

If asked to summarize the 53rd year of my life, that quotation pretty much covers it.  It was a great year.  I was married to my best friend, and we shared an amazing life and love story.  My sweet grandchildren brought me great joy.  My family and friends surrounded me with love and good times.  Life was great!  It Was The Best Of Times.

Until it wasn't.  My husband chose the Road Not Taken (and surely 'it did all the difference make'!),  and left my life feeling much like an off-balanced washing machine with a heavy wet rug trying to go through the spin cycle. It Was The Worst Of Times. We didn't survive it, and I spent my 54th birthday without my husband, fresh out of an impersonal courtroom where marriages are dissolved by strangers in black robes.

It was a great year.  It was a crappy year.

For those who have walked with me down the happy paths as well the sad, lonely, and dark paths - thank you.  I couldn't have survived The Worst Of Times without you.

Today begins a new (birthday anniversary) year of my life.  I don't know what the year will bring.  Hopefully it will be a healthy mix of joy, challenges, growth, and change.  I'd like to avoid as much of the icky stuff as possible, but then so would we all.

I'm looking forward to a year of The Best Of Times.  So... Where shall we begin?