On this last day of the year, I worked on some tasks from my to-do list, and even finished (finally!) the large version of the 2019 photo album. I told my inner perfectionist to be quiet as I hit the order button, and within the hour I had discovered more photos and some text that probably should have gone into the album. This surprised me not at all, and I chose not to be upset by it.
In the evening I watched a sad movie (“The Midnight Sky”). Then I went downstairs to be with my family and together we watched a TV broadcast of performers singing in a mostly empty Times Square. The emptiness struck me as sad but appropriately symbolic for the year. The ball dropped. We drank a toast to the new year. The children went to bed and I soon followed. It wasn’t much of a celebration, but there wasn’t much to celebrate about 2020.
Good-bye, 2020. You sucked.
Hello, 2021. We have high hopes for you. Please don’t let us down.