Now that I have you thinking I was a total slacker in 2023, it’s really not as bad as my title suggests. I did read some of my book list last year. And now is the time when I lay out all my excuses for why I didn’t come anywhere close to reading my list of 30 titles. *cracks knuckles*
First, let’s tackle the elephant in the room, which is that I always veer off the path to read books that weren’t on my original list. There was a time when these books were the ones I read to my kids. Car rides were a favorite time to introduce them to series such as Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl, and A Series of Unfortunate Events. The series that did me in was The Lord of the Rings. Reading elvish aloud is a different animal. That was two years ago. Now I have a kid who can drive himself, so we’re not always riding together. Plus, times have changed. When the four of us are riding somewhere together now, we’re more likely to be singing along with our extensive YouTube playlist. And that’s okay.
My side novels, as I like to think of them, have shifted to books that I read to keep up with my students. Because I teach kids with learning disabilities, it’s important to know firsthand exactly what happened in the books they read; when their comprehension takes a dive, I can help correct their misunderstandings. And I’ve really enjoyed some of these unplanned reading treasures. Although they pull me away from my list, they’re well worth it. Five of the seven unplanned books I read in 2023 fit this category.
One excuse down. Here’s another: In 2023, I struggled. Sometimes the struggle was because some of my books were just meh (I will not be returning to the Ship Breaker series). Sometimes the struggle was due to the length of the books and a lack of time. In July, our lives were turned upside down by an unexpected (but necessary) move in a horrible housing market. While I now believe that we ended up right where we were supposed to be, there was a lot of stress involved, a lot of sleepless nights (spent worrying, not reading), and up until a couple days before Christmas, we were still unpacking. The house projects promise to keep us busy for years to come. Oh, and before the move, we got chickens, so I can blame a lot of time evaporation on them, too.
Okay, that ended up being a whole list of excuses. I’m keeping on keeping on, but it’s slow. I’ve been reading my current book since late November, and sometimes I only manage five pages in a day. When your book has 700+ pages, it feels interminable. I could have devoted more time to reading this past week and squeezed in one last title, but instead, I chose to play games with my family, and I don’t regret it. After all, the books will always be waiting for me. (And, boy, do I have piles of books.)
Excuses delivered. Now it’s time to dive into the books. In 2023, my goal was to read 30 novels, and a few of them were doozies. (I did say it was ambitious right up front—the proof is here.) When it came right down to it, I only finished 22 books in 2023 (all but one were novels—the non-fiction title I read for work can be found on my Goodreads page). Only 14 of the books I read came from the original list of 30. Here they are, in the order in which I read them (* indicates where I deviated from my original list):
Siege and Storm (The Shadow and BoneTrilogy #2) by Leigh Bardugo
Ruin and Rising (The Shadow and BoneTrilogy #3) by Leigh Bardugo
Carry Me Home by Janet Fox
A Duet for Home by Karina Yan Glaser*
Superstar by Mandy Davis*
Stuck by Jennifer Swender*
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (Outlander #8) by Diana Gabaldon
Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (Outlander #9) by Diana Gabaldon
Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon
The Silkworm (Cormoran Strike #2) by Robert Galbraith
Career of Evil (Cormoran Strike #3) by Robert Galbraith
Lethal White (Cormoran Strike #4) by Robert Galbraith
Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike #5) by Robert Galbraith
The Ink Black Heart (Cormoran Strike #6) by Robert Galbraith
The Rook (The Rook Files #1) by Daniel O’Malley*
Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1) by Paolo Bacigalupi
The Drowned Cities (Ship Breaker #2) by Paolo Bacigalupi
The BFG by Roald Dahl*
Horns by Joe Hill
The Running Grave (Cormoran Strike #7) by Robert Galbraith*
Masterpiece by Elise Broach*
Of the titles I read, some favorites include everything by Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling), Superstar (a fantastic middle grade book about an autistic boy), and Instructions for Dancing (very different for Nicola Yoon but probably my favorite of her books).
In 2024, I will prioritize the 16 books that I wasn’t able to read in 2023, and I’ve added a few more because it’s me, and that’s what I do. Here’s the list (alpha by author):
Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
Red Rising (Red RisingSaga #1) by Pierce Brown
Golden Son (Red RisingSaga #2) by Pierce Brown
Morning Star (Red RisingSaga #3) by Pierce Brown
Iron Gold (Red RisingSaga #4) by Pierce Brown
Dark Age (Red RisingSaga #5) by Pierce Brown
Light Bringer (Red RisingSaga #6) by Pierce Brown
A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk & Robot #1) by Becky Chambers
A Discovery of Witches (All Souls Trilogy #1) by Deborah Harkness
Shadow of Night (All Souls Trilogy #2) by Deborah Harkness
The Book of Life (All Souls Trilogy #3) by Deborah Harkness
Sisterhood of Dune (Schools of Dune #1) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
Mentats of Dune (Schools of Dune #2) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
Navigators of Dune (Schools of Dune #3) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
The One by John Marrs
Stiletto (The Rook Files #2) by Daniel O’Malley
Blitz (The Rook Files #3) by Daniel O’Malley
Fractal Noise (Fractalverse #2) by Christopher Paolini
Murtagh (The Inheritance Cycle #5) by Christopher Paolini
Wild River by Rodman Philbrick
The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles #1) by Rick Riordan
The Throne of Fire (The Kane Chronicles #2) by Rick Riordan
The Serpent’s Shadow (The Kane Chronicles #3) by Rick Riordan
Solimar: The Sword of Monarchs by Pam Munoz Ryan
A Wish in the Dark by Christina Soontornvat
This year’s list isn’t nearly as daunting as last year’s, so maybe I’ll finally reach my goal. If not, I’m still going to enjoy the journey. As a writing professor told me decades ago (sigh), the important thing is to always have an answer when someone asks what I’m reading, and that I can do.
As usual, my 2022 book list got derailed. I mean, I even predicted it in my title (“My Totally Unrealistic 2022 Book List”), but a year ago, even I didn’t know that I would be taking a class that would require me to read more than one novel per week. I just thought I would have a hard time keeping up because a) I knew I wouldn’t have much time to read for pleasure because of grad school, and b) I had five Diana Gabaldon titles on the list, and it takes me weeks (if not months) to get through one of her books. So it comes as no surprise that I only read three of the Gabaldons. I have to space them out with other books just so I can feel like I accomplished something. And then there came the magical night sometime in the fall when I walked into a Barnes & Noble and was drawn to a new release that I didn’t even realize existed: Robert Galbraith’s The Ink Black Heart. Since I was in the middle of my multicultural lit course at the time, my husband read it first, and as soon as he finished it, he was adamant that I make it my top priority. Having just finished grad school, that’s what I decided to do. And because Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling) is my favorite author, and murder mystery is my oldest fictional genre love, as soon as I finished The Ink Black Heart, I decided to return to Galbraith’s first book and re-read the series. If you love a good murder mystery/thriller, I highly recommend these books (and you will see all the titles below in my 2022 and 2023 lists).
Thanks to my lit course, I read more books in 2022 than originally planned. And thanks to finishing grad school and getting my life back, I now have a craving to read whatever I want whenever I want simply because that’s now an option. So yes, this year’s list is very ambitious, but also more do-able than my annual lists since 2019.
Before I present the lists, however, I want to take a second to talk about the aforementioned multicultural lit course. It was a class that was a requirement to graduate, but I am so glad that it was. A couple of the books were assigned (Gratz’s Grenade and Khorram’s Darius the Great Is Not Okay), but others were left up to the students to find on our own. I am grateful to work in an elementary school with a well-stocked media center, and our media specialist loaded me down with more books than I needed (but that I read anyway), and the winner that left me sobbing on the couch after everyone else went to bed was Kereen Getten’s If You Read This. Despite being overwhelmed by having to read more than a novel per week, I was introduced to books I would not have otherwise read, and it also immersed me in the literature that many of my students are reading. When I visited our school’s fall book fair, I did so with a different outlook than usual, and my 2023 list includes a middle grade title that I purchased there (Carry Me Home). By adding titles like this to my personal library, not only am I reading great books that I genuinely enjoy, but I am also in touch with what my students are reading.
My 2022 list included one title (“Randomize” by Andy Weir) that I did not realize is a short story. It’s available electronically only, and I just don’t have it in me to purchase an electronic short story. So I’m removing that from my list and hoping that he releases another actual novel soon. Of the remaining 19 titles from that list, I read 10 and added quite a few more (not even counting non-fiction—you can see those five titles on my Goodreads page). Here they are in the order I read them (* indicates the ones not from my original list):
1. The Fiery Cross (Outlander #5) by Diana Gabaldon
2. Yaqui Myths and Legends by Ruth Warner Giddings*
3. Artemis by Andy Weir
4. The Rim of the Prairie by Bess Streeter Aldrich*
5. The Crown’s Game by Evelyn Skye*
6. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
7. Ready Player Two by Ernest Cline
8. I Am the Cheese by Robert Cormier*
9. The Swarm (The Second Formic War #1) by Orson Scott Card
10. The Crown’s Fate by Evelyn Skye*
11. The Hive (The Second Formic War #2) by Orson Scott Card
12. A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Outlander #6) by Diana Gabaldon
13. The Christmas Pig by J.K. Rowling
14. To Sleep in a Sea of Stars (Fractalverse #1) by Christopher Paolini
15. Home of the Brave by Katherine Applegate*
16. The Sun Is Also a Star by Nicola Yoon*
17. Indian No More by Charlene Willing McManis and Traci Sorell*
18. The Unsung Hero of Birdsong, USA by Brenda Woods*
19. The Total Eclipse of Nestor Lopez by Adrianna Cueves*
20. Grenade by Alan Gratz*
21. If You Read This by Kereen Getten*
22. Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram*
23. The Year of the Dog by Grace Lin*
24. Okay for Now by Gary D. Schmidt*
25. An Echo in the Bone (Outlander #7) by Diana Gabaldon
26. Ghost Boys by Jewell Parker Rhodes*
27. Black Brother, Black Brother by Jewell Parker Rhodes*
28. The Sweetest Sound by Sherri Winston*
29. The Ink Black Heart (Cormoran Strike #6) by Robert Galbraith*
30. Darius the Great Deserves Better by Adib Khorram*
31. The Cuckoo’s Calling (Cormoran Strike #1) by Robert Galbraith*
32. Shadow and Bone (The Shadow and BoneTrilogy #1) by Leigh Bardugo*
For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I did not receive a single book for Christmas—and I didn’t need to. I still have last year’s book from my husband to read (Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone), as well as all the other books from my 2022 list, not to mention the other books I added to my collection last year. So here is that very ambitious list (alpha by author):
1. Ship Breaker (Ship Breaker #1) by Paolo Bacigalupi
2. The Drowned Cities (Ship Breaker #2) by Paolo Bacigalupi
3. Siege and Storm (The Shadow and BoneTrilogy #2) by Leigh Bardugo
4. Ruin and Rising (The Shadow and BoneTrilogy #3) by Leigh Bardugo
5. Red Rising (Red RisingSaga #1) by Pierce Brown
6. Golden Son (Red RisingSaga #2) by Pierce Brown
7. Morning Star (Red RisingSaga #3) by Pierce Brown
8. Iron Gold (Red RisingSaga #4) by Pierce Brown
9. Dark Age (Red RisingSaga #5) by Pierce Brown
10. Light Bringer (Red RisingSaga #6) by Pierce Brown
11. Carry Me Home by Janet Fox
12. Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (Outlander #8) by Diana Gabaldon
13. Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (Outlander #9) by Diana Gabaldon
14. The Silkworm (Cormoran Strike #2) by Robert Galbraith
15. Career of Evil (Cormoran Strike #3) by Robert Galbraith
16. Lethal White (Cormoran Strike #4) by Robert Galbraith
17. Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike #5) by Robert Galbraith
18. The Ink Black Heart (Cormoran Strike #6) by Robert Galbraith
19. A Discovery of Witches (All Souls Trilogy #1) by Deborah Harkness
20. Shadow of Night (All Souls Trilogy #2) by Deborah Harkness
21. The Book of Life (All Souls Trilogy #3) by Deborah Harkness
22. Sisterhood of Dune (Schools of Dune #1) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
23. Mentats of Dune (Schools of Dune #2) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
24. Navigators of Dune (Schools of Dune #3) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
25. Horns by Joe Hill
26. Fractal Noise (Fractalverse #2) by Christopher Paolini
27. The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles #1) by Rick Riordan
28. The Throne of Fire (The Kane Chronicles #2) by Rick Riordan
29. The Serpent’s Shadow (The Kane Chronicles #3) by Rick Riordan
30. Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon
That’s it! Just a little reading list. Subject (definitely going) to change. Happy reading in 2023!
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.
~Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)
It’s been 363 days since I posted. More than once over the past several months, I’ve wondered if I should discontinue this blog altogether. From July 2021 until November 2022, I didn’t write or edit any fiction. I can’t tell you how many papers, discussion posts, and lesson plans I wrote, but none of them fed my creativity. While I do journal nightly (mainly to keep my sanity), I’ve never lived through such a dry spell since I could hold a crayon. In November 2021, I knew I wouldn’t be able to participate in NaNoWriMo—there was no way, immersed as I was in the five-course dyslexia practicum that lasted through the following August. And when I finished the grueling practicum, the next course I took required me to read at least one novel per week (more about that in my next post). I raced to the finish line, completing my Master of Education in Reading Education a semester earlier than I’d ever hoped, but I was white-knuckling it that last year just to get done. Finally, I feel like I can breathe again, like I can choose to do—or not do—things because I want to.
On November first, still finishing my last course, I had the vague idea that I might be able to squeak in some National Novel Writing Month participation. I opened the story I’d last worked on 16 months previously. I had started it in March of 2021 and written nearly 114,000 words before life intervened and I had to set it aside. And to be honest, I’d reached a point in my writing where I needed to step back, anyway. I just didn’t think it would be for almost a year-and-a-half. So when I reopened the manuscript, I was more than a little rusty. The plan was to read through the whole thing over again, editing as I went, praying that I would get through what I’d already written quickly enough to start making progress again. Well, forget NaNoWriMo. What with editing as I went, I was lucky to add 500 words in November, almost two months after getting started again, I’m only just over halfway through that manuscript. I have hope that my not-so-trustworthy memory and more dependable notes will be enough to get me back on track. But the heartening thing about all this is that I’ve discovered that I still like to write; there is still something within me that wants to tell a story. So I’m not giving up. I’m just glad that, after surfacing from the necessary mire that was grad school, the impetus to write remains.
Here’s to an end of something—grad school, not this blog!—and a renewal of something that remains important to me, even if it doesn’t pay the bills. I used to hold onto a story idea for months in order to have 50,000 words in my mental tank for NaNoWriMo. Not anymore. That’s not to say that I won’t ever participate in NaNoWriMo again, but it does mean that I will absolutely use the time that I have to write—or build a LEGO typewriter, or whatever. I feel like 2023 will be a great year for rediscovering what I like to do when I have that rare commodity, spare time, and the main thing I like—love—to do is to write.
In November, I did something that I had not done since 2021: I signed up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). And in doing so, I did something I’ve never done before: I signed up for NaNoWriMo expecting to fail.
The last time I participated in NaNoWriMo, I was in the midst of grad school, and I think the only thing that saved me was that it was 2020, when most of my (and my children’s) extracurricular activities were postponed until who-knew-when. Was I still stressed out? Yes. But I validated a 51,000-word manuscript by the 25th of the month.
In 2021, I had just started a special education certificate program that required me to take more courses per semester in order to stick with my cohort. With sports and music programs in full swing again, I made the tough decision to forego NaNoWriMo in the interest of spending time with my family and keeping a shred of sanity. What made my decision particularly tough was that, in March of that year, I’d had a brainwave, and a new story idea was born. Despite this brainwave coinciding with a new semester at a new school, I split my time between typing papers and typing the story. By the end of June, I’d written close to 114,000 words. Then my creativity fizzled out. There was a two-year period in my story line in which I needed the characters to develop, but I had no idea what events would cause that development. I knew what would happen at the end of those two years, but as for filling in the details, I was stuck. NaNoWriMo would have been a great time to wrestle with that, but even if I hadn’t been stupid-busy, I’m not sure if I would have made progress.
Last year, I felt guilty for opting out for a second year in a row, but no new ideas—or even old ones—had occurred in my year-plus of writing abstinence. Even though I knew I would finish my degree by the end of the month, it wouldn’t be enough time to squeeze 50,000 words in. And I was so burnt out that I was grateful for the lack of pressure.
Why is there so much pressure with NaNoWriMo, by the way? It’s kind of an honor system, although I believe that most people who are crazy enough to sign up to write 50,000 words in a month will see it through properly—or proverbially die trying. I put all that pressure on myself. While fellow Wrimos supported me every year, it was me who was upset if I didn’t make a certain word count in a day. So as November approached this year, I knew that it was on me to take the plunge… or not. I hadn’t written anything new in almost two-and-a-half years. I’ve edited some since 2021, but what if editing was all I had left? Signing up for NaNoWriMo seemed like a final test. Can I still write? That was a more important question than, Can I write 50,000 words in a month?
At the end of October, I signed up, deciding that I would return to my unfinished manuscript from early 2021. It was November 5th before I had time to even think about starting, and when I did, it was only in short spurts. My momentum didn’t start until the week of Thanksgiving. At that point, I knew I was capable of making up my paltry word count—after all, for my first ever NaNoWriMo in 2013, I wrote close to 5000 words on my first day. But that kind of passion was absent this year, leaving me with more of a slow burn. The poor NaNoWriMo stats tracker eventually gave up on telling me how many words I needed to write in a day when the daily goal exceeded 8000.
Here is what I did do in November: I spent time reading a fabulous book (The Running Grave, sequel to The Ink Black Heart, if you read my last post); I enjoyed a day trip to Savannah with my family (also in my last post); I did some much-needed cleaning/decorating/straightening around the house we moved into two months ago; I gave my family and our pets more attention than I have in Novembers past; and I ultimately lost NaNoWriMo for the first time, writing just over 9000 words.
But if you don’t live, what is there to write about?
I don’t know what future Novembers will look like, but now that I’ve lost and survived it, it feels… good. My writing has slowed down, but in this slower season, I will keep moving forward in manageable chunks. I now know the answer to my initial question: Not only can I still write, but by allowing myself to change my pace, I’m even enjoying it again.
One of my favorite places to go for a quick day trip or mini vacation is Savannah. As close as Disney World but not nearly as expensive, it also has the added attraction (for the adults, at least) of being full of history. And being married to a history nerd… well, it’s rubbed off. One of my favorite historical haunts (pun intended) is Colonial Park Cemetery. I visited it twice when chaperoning my kids’ 5th grade field trip to Savannah, but what actually made the biggest impression on me was hearing about it from the perspective of a ghost tour this past summer.
Displaced headstones again the back wall at Colonial Park Cemetery
I’ll have to admit, I had no idea what to expect from the ghost tour. While there was a conspicuous dearth of actual ghost sightings, and much of the tour was intentionally campy, the historical foundation laid beneath the ghost tales is solid. After hearing that hundreds of victims of the Spanish influenza had been shoveled into a mass grave and that Union soldiers used the cemetery as a camp in the Civil War, Thomas and I had to investigate for ourselves.
We didn’t find a marker for the victims of the flu, but we did walk along the back wall of the cemetery, where displaced headstones now rest. Many headstones are so old that their surfaces have been worn smooth, but we finally found one where some 19th century comedian etched a 1 with his Union-issue bayonet, changing the deceased’s age from 42 to 421. The rule follower in me is appalled by such blatant disrespect of the dead, but the nerd in me finds it absolutely fascinating that this prank from over 150 years ago is still visible today.
Earlier this week, we took the kids to the cemetery to show them our post-ghost tour findings. I’d taken a picture of the altered headstone the first time we found it, and we were able to find it again. Instead of being bored to death, the boys actually thought it was interesting. When not distracted by classmates and a rushed schedule, they began asking questions about the cemetery and the Civil War and history in general. We found some headstones from the 1840s that looked pristine. Considering that people were no longer buried in Colonial Park Cemetery after 1853, that’s comparatively recent. Reading the ages of the deceased on many of these headstones was a history lesson in itself—lots of children and teenagers. It’s sobering to realize that these aren’t cool props but actual markers in honor of real people. Now that the boys are old enough to appreciate it, a cemetery is a pretty cool place to visit.
Now that I think of it, a cemetery would be an excellent setting for a novel—one I have yet to use. I can, however, recommend a great book that has a lot of interesting goings-ons in London’s Highgate Cemetery. It’s Robert Galbraith’s The Ink Black Heart. (Side note: Robert Galbraith is a pseudonym for J.K. Rowling, and The Ink Black Heart is the sixth book in his/her phenomenal Cormoran Strike series.) Not only does a murder happen in London’s Highgate Cemetery, but Galbraith/Rowling creates a whole animated world around that cemetery. If you happen to be in the Savannah neighborhood, I can even recommend where to buy The Ink Black Heart (and any other book you could possibly want): E. Shaver Booksellers. They have giant friendly cats that sleep in the windows—what more could you want?
So keep reading, but don’t forget to get out into the real world and visit places that are worth reading and writing about.
Think about being a 21st century teenager, about the dual pressures of excelling in school because college and career are looming and having a diverse extracurricular portfolio because this could make or break the chances of making it into said colleges and careers. Do you know many young people who are thriving through such challenges, or do they all seem to be stressed out? My children’s generation is the “‘running on empty’ generation,” the generation that educational psychologist Michele Borba, Ed.D. says is “less happy and more stressed, lonely, depressed, and suicidal when compared with any previous generation” (Thrivers, p. 2). I wish this were all just theoretical for me, but unfortunately, it’s personal.
My elder son wasn’t handling the stresses of life well, and I know I was a big part of the problem. I live with anxiety; it’s a part of who I’ve always been. This is me:
Thanks to a supportive network (parents, husband, friends, etc.), I’ve made it to 40, maybe not with flying colors, but all in one piece. Does that mean that I’m comfortable living with high anxiety? I guess as comfortable as you would be if you had to wear shoes that are too small every day. But I’ve been able to cope. So it’s hard to get outside of myself and objectively ask if I would expect someone else to live how I live. For Peter, I don’t know if it was because puberty and a global pandemic hit at the same time or if it would have happened anyway, but halfway through the 8th grade, he was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t see the point of living anymore. My sweet, happy, well-adjusted boy…. wasn’t anymore.
In her book Thrivers, Borba is concerned with Peter’s generation, teenagers who are striving instead of thriving. But what’s wrong with striving? Don’t we admire those who strive and strive and finally manage to do something great? I’m thinking of the young Olympians who were their class’s valedictorian and spent every weekend volunteering at a homeless shelter. We hear about these people who seem like they can do everything—and everything incredibly well—and feel like, What have I done with my life? But are those people really fulfilled? Some might be; some might have the ability to do all that without breaking a sweat, but I would wager that most more closely resemble my anxiety graphic. Like Peter, many kids his age strive to achieve, to accomplish, sometimes just to finish a simple task… and striving is a lot like treading water in the hope of staying afloat long enough for the life raft to arrive. Last year, my fellow faculty members and I read Thrivers for our summer reading, and it was like a blow to the chest. I highlighted half the book, writing Peter’s name in every time I read a case study that sounded like him. And I’m not even close to being the only parent in this boat—it’s more like a fleet of aircraft carriers. As one devastated mom said of her daughter, “I didn’t realize how sad and overwhelmed she felt… I thought I’d given her everything she needed to be happy and successful, but I was so wrong. I missed helping her enjoy herself” (Borba, p. 3).
After reading the book, I had a very open conversation with Peter, and it broke my heart to hear him say, “I’m a striver, Mom.” With us backing him up one hundred percent, he decided not to pursue high school sports. This was after taking him for his sports physical, filling out all the appropriate forms, and making him take a number of exhaustive online tests to make him eligible to participate. Peter had played baseball since kindergarten and school sports since the 5th grade: basketball, flag football, and track and field. It just seemed natural that he would continue into high school. I was sad but supported his choice to cut back on after-school obligations. And he still played baseball for our local ballpark, which allowed him to play sports just for the fun of it. But when his academic schedule was still too much this spring, he told me that the only way he could handle his schedule was to quit baseball, too. I hate that he had to make that decision, but I’m proud of him for recognizing that, for the sake of his mental health, he had to drop something in order to balance his academics and the extracurricular activity that brings him the most joy: music.
Does this mean that Peter will always only ever do homework and play an instrument? Of course not. A friend and co-worker shared a podcast a few months ago that gave me new perspective on this issue. In her episode “How to Discover What Season You Are In,” Christy Wright encourages her listeners to give themselves grace throughout their different seasons in life. First, she points out that people of her (my) generation didn’t suffer from FOMO (fear of missing out) like our kids do because there was no social media; by the time we realized we were missing out on something, it was already over. Did kids our age still overdo it? Of course they did (waving my hand in the air), but it’s nothing like the widespread striving pandemic that’s catching with kids as young as five nowadays (Borba, p. 12).
The main point of Wright’s podcast is that we all go through seasons, and it’s unreasonable for us to expect the same results from ourselves in each season of life. What my own teen is going through right now is a season that is tough academically. There will be another season for him (as soon as final exams are over!) when he will enjoy more freedoms and have more choice about what he does with his time. This applies to everyone, not just teens. My own season in life doesn’t—and shouldn’t—look like the season when I was chasing toddlers. Right now, I’m still spending a lot of time transporting kids, but that will all change in just a few months. When I’m stressed about having to be in three places seemingly at once, I need to remember that there will be a time when I won’t have to take anyone anywhere anymore, so I need to soak up that valuable time by being present with my kids now.
Something that is not likely to go away in any season, however, is social media and our kids’ access to it. A friend of mine addressed this in a recent blog post, “A Safe Amount of Heroin.” (Sound provocative? Read it!) When I read her opening line, “The kids are not all right,” it felt like déjà vu because the opening line of Thrivers is, “Our kids are in trouble” (Borba, p. 1). Do I detect a theme? Although social media is certainly not the only culprit here, it’s a mighty powerful one. I’m middle-aged and can easily get sucked down a Facebook rabbit hole of all the trivia you would never believeabout [pick your topic]. What about our kids, who learned how to swipe on an iPad before they ever gripped a crayon? These are the people who have a hard time grasping why anyone would turn to a book for research when all of Wikipedia is at their fingertips. Or who can communicate via Snapchat but have no idea how to interact in person. The rise in social media use and the instant availability of just about everything on smartphones has direct links to both depression and our kids’ inability to cultivate the traits that would otherwise allow them to thrive (forget page numbers—just read all of Thrivers). If you’re still not convinced, as my friend aptly points out in her post:
[T]he rise of smartphones and social media means that your average 14-year-old spends almost all her time surrounded by other 14-year-olds—at school, and then digitally everywhere else.
What that means is that these 14-year-olds see the entire world exclusively from the perspective of a 14-year-old, which is terrifying. When one of them experiences their first heartbreak, it is literally the worst thing that has happened to any of them.
Kids who have no access beyond their own experience are at an extreme disadvantage. (Anyone read Lord of the Flies?) My friend has chosen to hold off on giving her youngest child access to social media and smartphones as long as possible. At our house, we did not allow Peter a SIM card for his phone until he was 14, and we’re on the same path for Ian. We also have meals around the table as a family and play card games with three generations—so our kids aren’t living in an isolated world of only people their age. And we now have enough pets that everyone in the house has to take responsibility for them, which includes mandatory outside time (we have chickens!). Whatever you decide will undoubtedly be difficult but necessary because all the pressures of 21st century life make it harder than ever to raise people who will be fulfilled adults someday. In Thrivers, Borba devotes a chapter to each of the seven traits that she says are lacking in strivers: self-confidence, empathy, self-control, integrity, curiosity, perseverance, and optimism. None of these traits happen by accident, but with our help, our kids can fulfill their first and most important job: to be kids. This means playing, discovering, failing, eating some dirt, and nothaving to shoulder the stresses that we adults unnecessarily place on their shoulders. When our kids quit striving and start thriving, wonderful things will happen.
Book Purgatory, where books wait to be read… or not.
Every year when I post my book list, I have the opportunity to reflect on the previous year, the book list serving as a kind of visual soundtrack of my life. My 2021 post reminds me that I lost a dear friend on New Year’s Day and that books, more than ever, helped me escape into a world that didn’t contain that pain. Later in the year, I had my younger son to thank for Tolkien; he wanted to read The Lord of the Rings, but of course, I had to start with The Hobbit. I am grateful that my kids still let me read to them, and in this case, I read for the whole family because my husband had never read the series before. When I think about the vacations we took in 2021, I will remember reading those works of fiction to my guys. (As a side note, they are the most difficult books to read aloud that I have ever read; with a lack of helpful punctuation and copious Elvish, I was stumbling all over the place.) About halfway through last year’s book list, the pace slowed down regarding the number of books I read, marking the end of a comparatively relaxing stretch in which I was waiting to transfer to a new university. By the end of 2021, not only was I taking a heavier class load than ever, but I was also into the Outlander series, all the books of which are monsters (800 pages or more).
Reading and writing go hand in hand, and along with reading less, my writing has completely stalled. I can’t even say I’m suffering from writer’s block because I’m not trying to write—and haven’t in more than six months. I don’t feel guilty about not participating in NaNoWriMo because there’s no way I could have fit it in. Reading and writing voraciously will likely not be a part of my life again until I finish grad school (whenever that happens). Rather than getting upset by this reality, I’m choosing to think of this as my fallow time. Just as fields need to lie fallow periodically for the sake of the crops that will be grown there in future seasons, now is the time for my creative juices to enjoy an extended break. I will continue to read because that helps me stay sane; plus, having some fictional stimulation will keep me primed for when I can write again.
I hoped to read 25 works of fiction last year—and I did—but I instead of my detours adding to my list, they replaced some of the books that I am now shifting to my 2022 list. Here are the fiction titles I read in 2021 (* indicates books that were not on my original list):
A Reaper at the Gates (An Ember in the Ashes #3) by Sabaa Tahir
The Ickabog by J.K. Rowling
A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) by Sabaa Tahir
Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike #5) by Robert Galbraith
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1) by Leigh Bardugo
Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo
The Diabolic (The Diabolic #1) by S.J. Kincaid
The Empress (The Diabolic #2) by S.J. Kincaid
The Nemesis (The Diabolic #3) by S.J. Kincaid
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien*
The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern*
Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1) by Orson Scott Card
Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate*
Outlander (Outlander #1) by Diana Gabaldon
Dragonfly in Amber (Outlander #2) by Diana Gabaldon
The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings #1) by J.R.R. Tolkien*
The Giver by Lois Lowry*
Voyager (Outlander #3) by Diana Gabaldon
Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir*
The Creakers by Tom Fletcher*
Drums of Autumn (Outlander #4) by Diana Gabaldon
The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings #2) by J.R.R. Tolkien*
Dune (Dune Chronicles #1) by Frank Herbert
The Return of the King (The Lord of the Rings #3) by J.R.R. Tolkien*
This year, I have no idea what books I’ll be reading aloud with my family, but I hope we continue this tradition. (I’m rooting for Harry Potter.) I also hope that my husband discovers a new book that he thinks is a must-read, like 2021’s Hail Mary. Yet again, this is a list that presumes a lot more free time than I actually have—and it’s not even complete. I always read at least 25 books in a year. I’m five short, so I’m looking for some must-reads. Check out the list below, and if you know of a book that you think I would love, please drop me a comment!
The Swarm (The Second Formic War #1) by Orson Scott Card
The Hive (The Second Formic War #2) by Orson Scott Card
Ready Player One (Ready Player One #1) by Ernest Cline
Ready Player Two (Ready Player One #2) by Ernest Cline
The Fiery Cross (Outlander #5) by Diana Gabaldon
A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Outlander #6) by Diana Gabaldon
An Echo in the Bone (Outlander #7) by Diana Gabaldon
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (Outlander #8) by Diana Gabaldon
Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (Outlander #9) by Diana Gabaldon
A Discovery of Witches (All Souls Trilogy #1) by Deborah Harkness
Shadow of Night (All Souls Trilogy #2) by Deborah Harkness
The Book of Life (All Souls Trilogy #3) by Deborah Harkness
Sisterhood of Dune (Schools of Dune #1) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
Mentats of Dune (Schools of Dune #2) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
Navigators of Dune (Schools of Dune #3) by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson
I don’t plan to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year. There, I said it. It’s something I’ve been contemplating since the summer, and I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ve written a novel every November since 2013, but not this year. I started 2021 with a lot on my plate but added even more in March, when I ended a nine-month hiatus in my grad school venture, transferring to a new school and plunging back in with both feet. The queen of over-committing myself, I may have signed up for NaNoWriMo without batting an eye in previous years, but not now. Maybe it’s COVID that’s given me a different perspective, but I’m more protective of my time than I’ve ever been—I’ve actually said no to some things, and NaNoWriMo one of them.
The idea of skipping made me feel like a failure at first. I told myself that I would sign up but give myself permission not to write if I couldn’t afford the time. But I know me, and if I sign up for something, I’m going to by-God finish it. And I really can’t say I mind the sacrifice. What I’m doing with my degree connects with my passion for reading and writing: I’m working on a dyslexia certificate as a specialty within Reading Education. This time next year, I should be able to screen kids for dyslexia and devise individualized plans to help them learn to read. There’s not much sadder to me than knowing there are people who struggle to read but would love it if only someone would help them. I want to be that someone.
Another reason I don’t mind taking off this year is that I wrote a ton from early March through June—close to 114,000 words, in fact. It was one of those stories that just blossomed out of nowhere. I wondered why it couldn’t have hit me at a more convenient time—October 31st, say. But it happened in March, and I wrote 55,000 of those nearly 114,000 words during the first 30 days. At the time, I kicked myself because I was worried I wouldn’t have anything left by November. But as I continued with grad school, work, spending time with my family, and life in general, my initial impetus to write waned. I believe things happen for a reason, and it seems that the reason the story came to me eight months prematurely is because I wouldn’t be able to commit to it in November. When the time it right (write?), I’ll take it up again—with no regrets or guilt.
If you’ve read my previous November posts, you know that I have really struggled with NaNoWriMo the past few years. One year, I actually re-started my previous year’s novel from a different angle, hoping to break through the writer’s block that had kept me from finishing the book the first time. Maybe taking a year off—writing when I have the itch and not on a schedule—is what I need in this chapter of my life. I don’t say this to deter potential WriMos, but I do hope that those of you who struggle with the November-only commitment will feel relieved that you’re not alone. Life happens. Sometimes you can spin out 50,000 words in November; sometimes you can’t. For those of you who need to pause, you’re in good company. And for those of you who do participate, I wish you well.
If you read my post from just after ringing in the new year, you know that my 2021 started with a melancholy tone. A dear friend was battling COVID-19, and I awoke to learn that his body had finally succumbed. He was the director of the community chorale of which I’ve been a member since the late 1990s. With coronavirus shutting down almost all things choral (because singers are considered super spreaders), all of our rehearsals and plans for performances stopped last March. Singing is one of my outlets, and I’ve been fortunate to be one of the few singers at my church most Sundays.
Fortunately, while singing is incredibly healing, it’s not my only outlet. I also love to read. Maybe that’s an understatement. I have to have something to read at all times—a healthy addiction?—and I also love to share what I read. (Which is why I started making this annual post however-many years ago.)
While 2020 took so much from everyone, it was a great year for me as far as reading goes. I read all the books from my 2020 book list, plus some. In fact, I re-read two different trilogies immediately after finishing them—sometimes it’s just hard to let books go. (Those trilogies are Lady Helen and His Fair Assassin. I read the first book of Lady Helen in 2019 but all the rest in 2020.)
Many of the other books on my list were ones that I read with my children. We finished A Series of Unfortunate Events, as planned. I also read The Hunger Games to them because they enjoy the movies, and Suzanne Collins recently published a prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. We finished all of those about a week ago.
If you’re one of my regular readers, you know that my elder son is dyslexic. Even before his diagnosis, it was my habit to read my favorite children’s books to him. (Maybe it was crazy, but I read the Harry Potter books to both kids in utero.) We often read his school novels together, and the format of virtual school last spring was particularly challenging for him. His entire grade level broke into a handful of book clubs, and the book he chose (okay, that I encouraged him to choose because I wanted to read it to him anyway) was Lois Lowry’s The Giver. A dystopian novel before that was even a genre, The Giver was new when I was a kid. Since then, Lowry has published three sequels. We finished reading the quartet after the book club was finished, and Peter really enjoyed them.
Two or three years ago, I discovered Usborne’s graphic novel classics (including titles such as Hamlet, The Hound of the Baskervilles, Jason and the Argonauts, Alice in Wonderland, and many others). Graphic novels are a great way for people with reading difficulties to access literature because the drawings provide so many contextual clues. Each time I got one for Peter, he devoured it. It became his habit to read one every night before bed. I can’t tell you the joy I feel from my son finding enthusiasm for books. Plus, he’s being introduced to classic stories without the barrier of archaic language (which can prove onerous even for the most fluent of readers).
Still, there are plenty of great books that aren’t graphic novels. Peter loves historical fiction, especially of the World War II era, so that’s why Salt to the Sea and The Book Thief are on the 2020 list. (Salt to the Sea is centered around the greatest maritime disaster in history, regarding loss of life. And no, it wasn’t the Titanic or Lusitania—check it out!) After we finished these, since Usborne hadn’t released a new graphic novel in a while, my husband let Peter borrow Maus and Maus II, graphic novels about some of the events of World War II. When he finished those, something different and wonderful happened: Peter asked if we could recommend any other good books.
We decided that a good first on-his-own novel was Nicola Yoon’s Everything, Everything. This book has a unique style, including short chapters and drawings throughout. These would help break up the text, making it less daunting. Plus, the language isn’t that difficult, except for humuhumunukunukuapua’a—I have yet to make it from one end of that word to other without needing a nap in the middle. We gave it to Peter, and he devoured it. Every time he finished a chapter, he would tell us about it. A common trait of dyslexics is poor working memory. He’s had to learn study skills particular to his learning style, which allow him to suss out the main idea and decide which details are important. Summarizing what he’s read—and sometimes having in-depth discussions about it—is Peter’s strategy to aid his reading comprehension. After Everything, Everything, he asked for a book Thomas had told him about, Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One. It was a much more challenging read, but Peter made it through and now considers it his favorite book. (There’s a recently published sequel—hope it lives up to the first one!) He’s currently reading Stephen King’s The Green Mile. For his birthday and Christmas, we gave him more novels—Ender’s Game and Jurassic Park. Peter is excited to have his own growing collection, and on more than one occasion, he’s said, “Now I see why you and Dad read all the time.” After catching him staying up late to read more times than I can count (my favorite form of rebellion), he’s learned to look ahead and see how long a chapter is before getting started because he has to complete a chapter in order to fully process and remember it. I don’t care what it takes—this kid is making reading a priority and enjoying it.
Okay, Sarah, what does this have to do with books you read in 2020? Nothing at all. These are books I didn’t read—because Peter read them himself! And more books I didn’t read: Harry Potter. When we finished A Series of Unfortunate Events, that’s what Ian wanted to read, but when I noticed one of his classmates reading the series, I told Ian it was time to read them on his own. So that’s what he’s doing now, and I’m proud of him, too. It’s a real joy to see my boys reading on their own and loving it.
So without further ado, here is the complete list of novels I read in 2020, ordered chronologically. Titles in red are the books that I either read a second time or were not on the original list.
Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
The Wide Window (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Third) by Lemony Snicket
The Dark Days Pact (Lady Helen #2) by Alison Goodman
The Miserable Mill (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Fourth) by Lemony Snicket
The Dark Days Deceit (Lady Helen #3) by Alison Goodman
The Austere Academy (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Fifth) by Lemony Snicket
Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys
The Dark Days Club (Lady Helen #1) by Alison Goodman
The Ersatz Elevator (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Sixth) by Lemony Snicket
The Dark Days Pact (Lady Helen #2) by Alison Goodman
The Vile Village (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Seventh) by Lemony Snicket
The Dark Days Deceit (Lady Helen #3) by Alison Goodman
The Hostile Hospital (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Eighth) by Lemony Snicket
Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler
The Carnivorous Carnival (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Ninth) by Lemony Snicket
Earth Unaware (The First Formic War #1) by Orson Scott Card
The Slippery Slope (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Tenth) by Lemony Snicket
The Giver (The Giver #1) by Lois Lowry
The Grim Grotto (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Eleventh) by Lemony Snicket
Earth Afire (The First Formic War #2) by Orson Scott Card
Earth Awakens (The First Formic War #3) by Orson Scott Card
The Penultimate Peril (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Twelfth) by Lemony Snicket
The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak
The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
The End (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Thirteenth) by Lemony Snicket
The Cuckoo’s Calling (Cormoran Strike #1) by Robert Galbraith
Stormbreaker (Alex Rider #1) by Anthony Horowitz
The Silkworm (Cormoran Strike #2) by Robert Galbraith
Career of Evil (Cormoran Strike #3) by Robert Galbraith
Lethal White (Cormoran Strike #4) by Robert Galbraith
Gathering Blue (The Giver #2) by Lois Lowry
Graceling (Graceling Realm #1) by Kristin Cashore
Messenger (The Giver #3) by Lois Lowry
Fire (Graceling Realm #2) by Kristin Cashore
Bitterblue (Graceling Realm #3) by Kristin Cashore
Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1) by Robin LaFevers
Dark Triumph (His Fair Assassin #2) by Robin LaFevers
Mortal Heart (His Fair Assassin #3) by Robin LaFevers
Son (The Giver #4) by Lois Lowry
Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1) by Robin LaFevers
The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games #1) by Suzanne Collins
Dark Triumph (His Fair Assassin #2) by Robin LaFevers
Catching Fire (The Hunger Games #2) by Suzanne Collins
Mortal Heart (His Fair Assassin #3) by Robin LaFevers
Mockingjay (The Hunger Games #3) by Suzanne Collins
The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) by Rick Riordan
An Ember in the Ashes (An Ember in the Ashes #1) by Sabaa Tahir
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (The Hunger Games #0) by Suzanne Collins
A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) by Sabaa Tahir
As you can see, 22 of the 50 books I read were unplanned. While I was worried that some of them might derail me from reaching my goal, I don’t regret reading them. (Okay, one exception—Stormbreaker, a school book for Peter that neither of us enjoyed.) When I saw that Erin Morgenstern had a new book, I had to get it, and The Starless Sea might be the best book I’ve ever read. Unless it’s The Night Circus. Yikes, she needs to get busy and write a bunch more.
Woo-Hoo! New Books for 2021
Now for 2021. I’m excited that some of my favorite authors have penned new books, some adding to ongoing series. That’s why I’m re-reading An Ember in the Ashes, the fourth book of which was recently published and is on this year’s list. There’s also a fifth novel in the Robert Galbraith (J.K. Rowling) Cormoran Strike series. Since I just re-read the first three books over the summer in order for the story to be fresh for the new-to-me fourth book, I don’t need to re-read those. J.K Rowling also wrote a new book, The Ickabog, for families during the COVID lockdown. It was originally an online publication, and she held an illustration competition. The whole thing was published with beautiful color illustrations from the winners, and I just started reading it with my family today. A few chapters in, I’m reminded why Rowling is one of my favorite authors.
Other titles of interest: Christopher Paolini (author of the Eragon books) released a new book, unrelated to The Inheritance Cycle. I read S.J. Kincaid’s The Diabolic in 2019 and am finally collecting the other books in that trilogy. Years ago, my dad lent us the books from the Ender’s Game series, including spin-offs. I plan to finish those (one of which I just got for him for Christmas, so I’m going to have to borrow that when he’s done with it). I also plan to re-read Dune because—hello! Have you seen that they’re re-doing the movie? And of course, I need to have it fresh so I can get peeved every time the movie takes creative license. Actually, I have high hopes. Please don’t screw it up, new movie! (So when my dad reads this, please let me borrow Dune again, too.) There are other books I’ll re-read, since the list would be sparse, otherwise. (Hoping Diana Gabaldon publishes Outlander #9 in 2021 or early enough in 2022 that I won’t forget everything from the first eight books.) As always, I expect there will be a lot of red on here when I post what I read a year from now.
Until then, here’s my jumping off place (alpha by author):
Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1) by Leigh Bardugo
Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo
Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1) by Orson Scott Card
The Swarm (The Second Formic War #1) by Orson Scott Card
The Hive (The Second Formic War #2) by Orson Scott Card
Ready Player One (Ready Player One #1) by Ernest Cline
Ready Player Two (Ready Player One #2) by Ernest Cline
Outlander (Outlander #1) by Diana Gabaldon
Dragonfly in Amber (Outlander #2) by Diana Gabaldon
Voyager (Outlander #3) by Diana Gabaldon
Drums of Autumn (Outlander #4) by Diana Gabaldon
The Fiery Cross (Outlander #5) by Diana Gabaldon
A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Outlander #6) by Diana Gabaldon
An Echo in the Bone (Outlander #7) by Diana Gabaldon
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (Outlander #8) by Diana Gabaldon
Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike #5) by Robert Galbraith
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
Dune (Dune Chronicles #1) by Frank Herbert
The Diabolic (The Diabolic #1) by S.J. Kincaid
The Empress (The Diabolic #2) by S.J. Kincaid
The Nemesis (The Diabolic #3) by S.J. Kincaid
To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini
The Ickabog by J.K. Rowling
A Reaper at the Gates (An Ember in the Ashes #3) by Sabaa Tahir
A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) by Sabaa Tahir
If you know of a book that I should add, please let me know in the comments—I’m always looking for recommendations! Good reading in 2021.
Just so you know where my head is while I write this, I’m waiting for news that a very dear friend has passed from this world to the next. From COVID, of course. While I still plan to post my usual New Year’s book list, right now I’m feeling pretty somber. I certainly have a great deal of empathy for people who have already traveled this tough journey—or have yet to travel it.
Where to start? This time last year, we were celebrating the New Year with my husband’s parents and getting ready to embark on a three-day trip to Disney World with my parents. Other than some murmurs of a few cases of COVID from across the country, everything was status quo in Florida. Singing with the community chorale (the director of which is the good friend mentioned above). Church in the sanctuary with a full choir and no masks. In person piano lessons and a judged festival for my kids. Baseball practices—and my husband’s first opportunity ever to actually coach on one of the kids’ teams. School with all the kids in the classroom. Fill in the blank. At the chaperone meeting for my son’s school trip to Washington, D.C., someone asked if there was a contingency plan for a COVID outbreak (this was getting toward the end of February). We laughed it off. Within a few weeks, COVID had touched everyone in the country—whether it was because you or someone you knew had it, you found yourself suddenly having to open your own one-room schoolhouse in your kitchen, you lost your job or were furloughed, or you were busier than you’d ever been in your life because of your line of work. Most likely, you experienced a combination of the above with a few other morsels sprinkled in, like being cut off from loved ones in long-term care or having to drastically change wedding plans.
There have been times over the past year when I’ve felt like my life isn’t my own anymore, that I’m somehow living in limbo. “When all this is over” is the theme of the day. The problem is that when it is over (if it is), we’ll be so changed that we might not recognize our old lives. Will we ever be able to go places like the zoo on a whim, or will we forever be required to get a reservation in advance? And it’s not as if we get these months back, reclaim missed graduations and the births of grandbabies. It’s not as if loved ones will return to us. The hopelessness of this situation is enough to suck the life out of you if you’re not careful. And knowing that we’re all going through it in some capacity doesn’t really help much when you’re living it.
I don’t mean to paint a bleak picture of the whole year. 2020 was also a really productive—and often a good—year for me. Even though I haven’t posted many blogs, I’ve written more this year than I have since I went back to work full-time five years ago. I’ve read a lot of great books, too. I’ve seen both of my kids blossom in ways that they might not have in normal times because they’ve been forced to deal with situations beyond what we ever expected. And since we’re pretty much homebodies anyway, we’ve enjoyed much of our time at home together.
But there’s also that reminder—sometimes so far in the background that I almost miss it, sometimes so much in my face that I can hardly see anything else—that life is precious and fragile, and any one of us could go at any time. My family has faced sudden, tragic death on more occasions than I would wish on my worst enemy—and recently enough that my kids have experienced it, too. So why does it feel so different this year? I guess, in part, because many, many people have had COVID and survived. My husband even had a pretty bad exposure—and he didn’t get it. When you dodge a metaphorical bullet, you begin to feel bulletproof.
Since my friend’s downward spiral with COVID began, I have prayed harder for him and his family than I’ve ever prayed in my life. It truly has been a fight for his body, even now when he’s sedated. Every morning, the first thing I do is check my phone for an update, praying for a miracle. I’ve begged and pleaded with God, knowing that many other people have also begged and pleaded for the lives of their loved ones… to no avail. My prayer has been that he still has so much good he can do here, if only given the chance to live. Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe that when someone dies, God simultaneously welcomes a son or daughter home with joy, while also comforting those left to mourn. I just cannot believe (as ancient Greeks did, with their Fates) that our lives simply end when our Earthly work is done, whether that’s at birth or age 30 or age 90.
When I started my current job in my school’s business office several years ago, a co-worker gave me some words of encouragement when I commented that my workload was so different than when I was in the classroom. In the classroom, there were projects that each child needed to finish at a particular time. If not, they would never happen. When you’re done with the letter A, you move on to the letter B. Period. She reassured me that it’s normal to have something left to do in your inbox. You come back the next day and continue where you left off. While that may sound daunting to some—like the work never stops (it doesn’t)—it sounds like job security to me. There’s always something left to do.
In the same way, isn’t there always life left to live? Turn it around the other way and think of how bleak life would be if we didn’t have something left to do. (In fact, I think many people do feel this—as have I before my thyroid disease was diagnosed—but depression is a whole different post.) So while I might not understand why good people with so much life ahead of them die, it is somewhat of a comfort to know that those who leave full inboxes are in good company. But those inboxes—unfinished projects, unchecked lists, trips not taken, words not said—aren’t the only things left behind. There are also wonderful memories, incredible legacies, and small kindnesses that make life worth living to begin with. May 2021 be filled with such moments for you.
Full-Time Writer Mom 