So, 2021 comes to close, and just like how I was feeling over Christmas, I have no excitement for the coming year. I am quite sure this is due to having three shitty years in a row. And if I really think about it, 2018 was a craptastic 12 months as well. It is fair to say that me and the wife have had a really difficult five years, if we are to be honest.
I feel awful for saying that, mainly because it’s our daughter that is getting the short end of this stick. The first two years of being a parent aren’t easy, but we handled that time of our lives, I think, rather well. But these last five years… She’s had to deal with parents that have had a high level of anxiety. And I know that we aren’t the only people who have had a hard time. But I would like it to lighten up a little for the kid, if nothing else.
She asked me last night as I was tucking her in how long she’ll have to keep wearing a mask.
Just a while longer, I said.
I had to give her some hope. I needed some hope as well.
It’s a very fine line when hope goes from optimism, and crosses into a lie.
But, there is still a chance that things can get better. A chance that optimism will return. That we can start planning for longer than a week, or a month.
As my grandmother would say, you gotta have goals; something to look forward to.
