I was startled today to realize that my planner has but six days left to fill; I was startled even more, perhaps, by the realization that I have plans that forge past that six-day mark, that billow into 2013 as if the days are no different (and also that I am the kind of person who demands a particular planner, which is, HAHA SO low-strung of me.)
I mentioned this to my mom: As a freshman in college, I walked into the student center and saw a banner hung that said, “Congratulations Class of 2013!” I thought (I guess fairly distinctly, because I remember the moment) “That’s so far away!” But I’ve got 2013 plans, the sort that I mark down in my planner–copy deadline, January 16 / classes start, January 9–and the kind that have been inked on my brain for months–graduation, May 4 / Janie and Coston’s wedding, May 25. I need to get a new planner.
But I walked away from my email, my old, worn-out, smudged-up calendar, my list of assignments for that copy deadline. I walked away because no one was going to answer my emails anyway, and also, there was 2013 to consider. I drove to the nearest bookstore and combed the shelves for my favorite planner, but I came up empty-handed and decided to get a latte instead, on account of no one is empty-handed with a latte. I thought on what’s coming: Will the days be different? Will things have a 2013 feel? Will the wind carry wisps of this is the year you’re a grown up or this is the year you watch your friends marry?
It’s hard to know. I know that in the past, I’ve slipped on the year like a new pair of shoes that seems worn-in enough a few days after wearing. Nonetheless, there is a fluttering in my tummy at the thought of 2013, a whole cake of a year without a single bite missing. I don’t have any resolutions; I don’t have any plans that can’t be crossed out and replaced with a new scribble. A cake, indeed.
It’s the tail end of the night, here: the house crackles and pops, but there are no voices, save for the one dribbling out of my earphones. The lights are dim, and sleep is creeping, sashaying around me. It feels a lot like December 27th feels: the tail end of things finished, of envelopes sealed and chapters closed, and the eyes rest before the pen is retrieved again.
If I don’t speak to you again before 2013, let me say this–2012, you were more than enough. You were good and fun and bright and merry. You stretched and spun me; you whispered to me and you sang me songs. You shone on me, and you let your winds blow. 2012, you were this and so much more, and I’m a better person to have known you.
2013, I know the best is yet to come. I believe, I trust, and I expect.
“Moses said to the Lord, “You have been telling me, ‘Lead these people,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. You have said, ‘I know you by name and you have found favor with me.’ If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you. Remember that this nation is your people.”
The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”
Then Moses said to him, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?”
And the Lord said to Moses, “I will do the very thing you have asked, because I am pleased with you and I know you by name.”
Then Moses said, “Now show me your glory.”
And the Lord said, “I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the Lord, in your presence.” –Exodus 33:12-19