“Why is everyone going on and on and on about 2016 as if it’s a person!?”
“Numbers have meaning, Siobhan,” my Mum replied.
I may have rolled my eyes, in the most daughterly fashion, as she repeated a story she’s often told me. Any year with a six or a nine is guaranteed to be bad, you see. 2009 was an awful year for our family for that very reason.
It was a few days before 2017.
2016 wasn’t a bad year for me on a personal level: I’m grateful that my family remained in good health; I made return trips to seven different countries; as an Olympic obsessive, I loved watching Team GB come second in both the Olympic and Paralympic games; I saw the Grand Canyon; I zip lined upside down over a rainforest in Whistler; I gazed at the super moon on a beach in Barcelona; I put down a deposit for my very first house; I visited New York for the very first time; I grew in some areas but felt stuck in others.
2016 was a terrible year for many: Toxic politics; terrorism; bloodbaths in war-torn countries; the list doesn’t end, every day seemed like a bad news day.
Numbers two, zero, one, and six can’t be blamed. But it can be recognised that, as always, my Mum was right and those numbers hold meaning to people. People needed 2017. The chance to start again is important.
I started this year off on the wrong foot: I’ve been in a rush; I haven’t been looking after my health (although that’s hard to do during mini egg session!); I haven’t been taking the time to count my blessings.
It’s not too late to start it again, though. 🙂 Whether you believe that the numbers in a year have power or not, I hope you have a wonderful 2017 and that you’re able to look back on the year with a list of wonderful experiences.
The wisdom of Ray Bradbury:
If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.
I brought a house this week! A little blue house by the sea.
It’s on a new development and, as the houses on it are being released slowly and selling quickly, I’ve been missing out on chances to secure one of the houses for months. I grabbed my chance this week.
The house itself is still being built and will be ready around May/June next year. It’ll look a lot like this:
For now, though, it looks like this:
There’s a large part of me that’s nervous. The thought of being “tied down” has always worried me but, that said, I’ve noticed a shift in my attitude this past year or so.
I’ve never appreciated my home town as much and have really begun to realise just how much of a treasure long term friendships/experiences are. It feels like it’s the right time for me to put down roots.
The excitement of being a future home owner has brought my creative side out of hiding, too. I’ve been browsing life style blogs, buying magazines, and planning on hand making a few bits and bobs. I’m happy that I’ll get to have some input in the build process and to have my home looking exactly as I wish it to.
I can’t wait to watch as my little blue house rises from the rubble.