A New Year, but not a New Me

Every New Year, right around my birthday, I start telling myself how I'm going to do better this year. I'm going to be a better person this year. I'm going to be more patient with my kids. I'm going to stop cussing—especially in traffic or when a patrolman pulls me over (in my defense, the rental car I drove last week was a Dodge Charger). I tell myself I'm going to be kinder to strangers—even the Internet ones. I'm going to stop screaming at the next door neighbors' dogs that bark incessantly. I'm going to laugh more and complain less. I'm going to read a good book instead of going down sad rabbit holes regarding government corruption. (Not surprising is the fact I'm currently reading Ed Snowden's book on... government corruption lol).

I've been repeating these promises for so many years and it seems no matter how much I want them to "work" each year —they just don't. I want to be a better example for my kids. I can't be the only parent who attempts these resolutions. Mine never stick though. Matthew was the patient one. He was kind to anyone he met. He made people feel good. He ignored government corruption and didn't let it destroy his attitude or how he viewed people. 

This morning I got a message from a stranger who worked at the hospital where Matthew was a frequent patient. She told me how kind and good he was to everyone there, and how he talked about his wife and kids. She reminded me how lucky I was to have had him. 

Every birthday for a long time, Matthew used to get me flowers. He always made me feel special— even when they'd be flowers he took from the discount floral shelf after work. I woke up this morning to flowers on the table from my 16-year-old son. Homemade cards from my daughters, a cake Téa baked and silly presents all gift wrapped. They pulled pranks to make me howl with laughter like, "mom the milk went bad!" —which was our milk carton holding a knife, with sunglasses, and a scowl staring out from the fridge. 

Every birthday, no matter how black hearted or sour I've been all year, I still get to be the mom of these four people who are 100 percent their father—kind, loving and GOOD. Every birthday, a handful of people send me messages and texts of well wishes—and I still can't believe they do even when I may not be the best friend or sister throughout the year. Thank God I was born 48 years ago when and where I was, in order to be placed along this varied, crooked life path, getting to know the people I have and done the things I have done. All of which have taken me right here, right now. I love how Matthew keeps blessing me in little ways despite being gone. And I love how HE above blesses me, and loves me unconditionally, no matter how ornery, wicked or bad I can be. What a great birthday gift. 

Happy New Year, from the same old Me.


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