Everyone's a writer around December 31 and January 1st. Though this year, we saw more thoughtful year end wrap-up posts. Social media was ablaze with recaps and not so hilarious memes about 2020. As we re-entered the Scroll (we've since left our picturesque internet-less cabin in the woods), it felt all the same. Because, for the first time, it was all the same. These are the same bread-baking, beer-brewing, art-crafting, mask-wearing photos and activities we were looking at in June. We all went through this pandemic, this election, this weird unsettling year together. While this place feels more divided than ever, and to varying degrees of tragedy, the commonality of anxiety, fear, and just plain upset is still rattling around in our bodies and hitting Full Send to our Insta feed.
Why?
Because even time spent still is time we want to mark. We are the storytellers. We are the creators. As our friend, Rupert Wates, told us-- dam the river one way and it'll flow out another. Whether you were in the Learn-50-New-Skills-in-One-Month camp or the Start-Drinking-at-11AM camp or somewhere in between, you were in an act of writing your 2020 story, already framing it before it was complete.
So it's 2021, now.
Nothing has changed.
Yes, there's a vaccine. Yes, there's a new president coming into office. But until the fruition of these new developments, we are still in 2020 (insert hardy-har meme here). We still need to wear masks. We still need to stay home as much as possible. And even as this little folk band is starting to put live show dates on the 2021 calendar, we are holding them as lightly as we can.
Anything can happen.
But for now, nothing is happening. We are still waiting. New Year, Same Us. The page has turned, but the story is still going, for a little while longer. But it doesn't have to be a bad thing. After all, we kind of like us. And that same us is putting out a new record. New Record, Same Us. Good things can come from the same package. Maybe we can just count 2021 as a pleasant re-gift instead of a do-over. Not a re-write, but an ongoing chapter. Mask willing and the bread does rise.