Welcome to 2020, the year of visual acuity.
20/20 get it? Yes I am funny and I have also been up past my bedtime fretting about what to write because its almost the end of January and I am on the fast train ready to break the no.4 and no.8 goals on my 20/20 vision board.
I had written down every alphabet on the black word doc in front of me but my brains thought they were prompts to freeze. A…..ahhhh, okay try B….huuuuhhh, try C….hmmmmm. If my brain were an engine than right now they were the engines of the southwest trains from Waterloo to Wimbledon that jerks- starts and splatters before slowly rolling through the tracks.
You know I even tried looking at articles I wrote around the same time last year and almost knocked my two dodgy front teeth out because of how upbeat they sound compared to how sluggish I now felt.
I mean, I even had added a, “cheerleader chant for you to finish off your studies, get those biceps and what abs, love that person unconditionally, put yourself forward for that role…”. Seriously, how did I go from that to this?
The 2019 Miri would not heap her problems on a young soul (read nephew) in her keep but this 2020 Miri certainly did. I walked over to my nephew and demanded that he write an article for me before the end of the month. Mind you its almost 12 midnight and the sight of a wonky toothed aunt with frantic hair will be enough to scare any person into submission and write the duly needed 500-word article. He kindly ran through some excuses and perhaps to make me feel better he told me that he had had an unfortunate 2020 beginning as well.
In 2018 he and his cousin has written up their goals and buried it in a box around my parent’s house to be opened on New Year’s Eve heralding in 2020. Unfortunately, they forgot to place a marker on the spot where the box was hidden so the day before my nephew was due to fly out to us for the Christmas holidays he was frantically digging holes around my mother’s garden looking for the box.
My mother begged him to stop digging up her beautiful yams and instead get ready for his long trip and so his cousin promised to come to their Grandmas’ and look for the box instead. Two weeks after his frantic digging and a day before 2020 began he received a call from his cousin to apologise for failing in his mission to find the box. They both decided that they would just have to find the box in 2021, or 2022 or 20 whenever.
So, the moral of the story, he says is that they will just have to keep digging. He says this full of optimism and I am thinking to myself that the box may be with the yams in my mother’s precious garden but they won’t be able to get until my mothers’ pride and joy are ready for harvesting or risk getting whooped.
And his moral of the story is my moral of the story too.
I just have to keep digging. My words may be slow and sluggish and my cheerleader rants low, but I will keep digging. We don’t have to keep all engines running. Sometimes its okay to start slow. And you know that train to Wimbledon? Well, it splatters and stutters but it reaches the same destination that the faster Southwest trains do.
So to you the slow and the sluggish, to us the unsettled who haven’t quite hinged into 2020 yet, we are the Wimbledon Trains that will reach our destination, the box that will somehow be found by constantly digging hands and we are the results of goals that when unearthed will bring up delicious abundant yams as well. So let’s keep digging.
Hears to us, to you, to 2020.