Chapter 19 - The New Tradition
On New Year’s Eve, Maisie and I started a brand-new tradition.
Instead of going out to crowded parties or sitting around watching scripted television specials, we took a large, heavy sheet of heavy cardstock paper and sat down at our dining table with a box of metallic markers.
"What are we writing, Mom?" Maisie asked, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she uncapped a gold marker.
"We’re writing our list for the new year," I explained, sliding a silver marker toward her. "Not resolutions about what we need to change or fix about ourselves. A list of things we promise to keep being."
Maisie’s eyes lit up. "Can I write 'Be brave'?"
"Especially that," I smiled.
For the next hour, we filled the paper with our promises to ourselves and each other:
Be brave.
Take up space.
Never let anyone make us feel small.
Choose kindness over cruelty.
Always listen to our instincts.
Build a home filled with laughter.
When we finished, we walked out onto the front porch, rolled the paper up tightly, tucked it inside a clean glass jar, and sealed it with a cork.
We placed the jar on the mantel above our fireplace, right beside Grandpa Jonathan’s silver pocket watch and a framed photograph of the two of us laughing on the shores of Orcas Island.
As the clock struck midnight and distant fireworks began to bloom like fiery chrysanthemums across the Seattle skyline, I pulled Maisie into a long, fierce hug.
"Happy New Year, my sweet girl," I whispered against her hair.
May you like
"Happy New Year, Mom," she whispered back, looking up at me with eyes so full of light, strength, and unshakeable confidence that my heart felt fit to burst. "We made it."
"We did," I said, looking out at the bright, wide-open world waiting for us beyond the window. "And the best part is... we're only on chapter one."
