The week between Christmas and New Year's is a time of disorientation. Living in the present is not possible; looking ahead is stressful. When I was working, these seven days were either marked by intense activity (preparing the Mayor's budget submission for the District of Columbia) or calm respite (taking time off from doing deals during investment banking days).
This year is particularly fraught. I stepped back from political activity in 2015; I know I will be very involved in 2016, but I'm not sure how. The uncertainty is making me anxious. How will I manage conflicts between the new role I assumed in 2015 (taking Beba to soccer games and the movies, picking her up at school) with the organizer's job of getting the team together to register voters, phone bank and canvass?
Death is more of a presence as I look ahead to 2016. Leslie's brother-in-law died a few days ago after a long and painful illness. He was five or more years younger than I am. This year marked 30 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In the past few years, important people in my life have died, especially Comer, my former boss, mentor and dear friend for 40 years. The lighted candles pictured on the cover of my poetry book seemed appropriate for poems that celebrated memories of my dear departed family and friends.
I can't stop on this rather tragic note. I am resilient and resourceful. My survival instincts are strong. If nothing else, I know 2016 will be interesting.