happy golden days

This year was the first year that time slowed down.

March feels like one hundred years ago. Between then and now I’ve read thirty-six books, taken weekly walks at the lake, and finished the fourth season of the Crown - ask me about my Margaret Thatcher impression whenever you see me next!

Will the glow of these days be golden in retrospect? I hope to recall lingering weekends and the quietness of the world instead of masks and social distancing. This year has been been full of surprises (Google: Midwestern derecho, murder hornets, or Tenet’s sound-mixing to see what I mean) but I hope to remember the good in lieu of the bad.

What if our memories attain a golden hue because of our choices? It would be the easiest thing in the world to look back on 2020 and feel depressed, but it takes self-discipline to look back and see the diamonds in the rough. There’s no reason 2021 is going to be “better” than 2020, but I’m hopeful it can shimmer in its own way.

p.s. this remix of an annual classic has been on repeat the last few days.