As the calendar flips to a new year, I find myself desperately clinging to the many positive intentions I’d set for myself as they get sucked, one by one, into a vortex of volatility. I thought I was doing pretty well this holiday season, for a change. All the ghosts of Christmases past weren’t exactly gone, but I was holding them at bay as we set our plan to create new and joyful memories into motion.
Suffice it to say, as I warmed that damned frozen viper against my bosom—against K’s advice, I might add—I got zapped right back to the past. A dark place full of pain and sorrow. And then I looked up. All of my self-pity shamed me as I witnessed so much misery and suffering in the world that made my petty, insignificant hurts appear what they are—trivial. There are so many dead and dying children in Gaza, Ukraine, and Sudan, to name but a few of the geopolitically war-torn areas. Now, those are the souls who are suffering.
One of my greatest accomplishments in life was running homeless shelters for families in East LA and Denver, helping destitute parents stabilize so their children could thrive. Every day that I walked into the shelter, the kids would run up to me with faces full of hope and bellies full of nutritious food. Life didn’t get any better than that.
So, the pity party’s over, and the hard work begins. Again. I have a plan for my novel in 2026. A plan that is doable if I can get my head back into the game. And I will, because what’s the alternative? I’m going to be one of those persistent souls who won’t give up, no matter how many times I get knocked down. Call me stubborn or foolish, this is my path. Pura vida
Judy Richter 