As the good book says, Rosh Hashanah commemorates the creation of the world and marks the beginning of the Days of Awe, a 10-day period of introspection and repentance that culminates in the Day of Atonement. I don't actually know if the good book says all that but I know that, even as a child, we would walk to the Chabad to hear the shofar blow. Today is the day of trumpets.
The beginning of the world.
I am introspective enough, without a holiday. So this excuse to sit with my thoughts comes, welcomed or not, and I think that's dangerous. But I also think it's time.
Somedays I don't know how I got here. As I sit under mountains of paperwork or plan immersive genocides, or sing sad songs, I laugh at my good fortune and cry in the face of things I still don't fully understand. Maybe I never will understand the way the sky turned grey and how the flood came. When I turned around, I was turned to salt and hardly left as anything but a puddle of my own tears. But they warn you against going backwards--and for good reason. So we sail as far as possible from the wreckage. From the places and people and things that can no longer exist, if we are going to thrive. And wait for the dove to bring the olive branch. Or plant new branches altogether.
I started as a seedling. First under-watered then over-watered and now watered enough to survive. Last winter wasn't particularly kind to me. Still too close to the ground, I've become something that can be easily stepped on. But it takes time to grow and I have never been too patient or too kind to myself. In that growing process, though, I started to see. With and without glasses, the image of me became clearer in my mind's eye. The work I've put in, the work I still have to do; the person I am and the person I want to become.
I've started my apologies. Before me are ten days saved for the "sorry's" we don't say. Then the good book closes and another year of fate is sealed. I consider myself to be a decent person but I know there are people who think otherwise. And, while no one can make everyone happy---I'm sorry.
I take responsibility for my part in the last 365 days--and beyond. And I'm ready to do better. So this is my olive branch, with a promise that I won't be turning around again. But I'm ready for whatever happens next.
This is Me:
My name's Melissa. I'm the girl with her hands in her journal.