Reverb12: Five Minutes

(For the past two years, I’ve used Reverb10 prompts to give myself a question to answer every day of December. It’s a great way to reflect on the year and set goals for the future. I’ve kept my favorite prompts, added a few from other sources, and created my own month of questions.)

5 minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2012 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about the last 12 months.

This was the year you slipped back into teaching without losing your breath.

This was the year you went to Sacramento to raise hell and formed ‘Team Cupcake’ because you and your partner only looked like pushovers. You found out that there really is a difference between Democrats and Republicans.

This was the year Pantheacon was old hat. You spoke up in sessions and you bought too many tarot cards and went home really, really happy.

This was the year you went to a shady sports bar to see JC’s band perform and had a blast. You were pretty sure you saw a drug deal happen.

This was the year you went to Philadelphia to tour colleges and didn’t have a decent meal for a week. You came home thinner, weaker and pissed off that no one in Pennsylvania understood what ‘vegan’ meant.

This was the year you published a novel.

This was the year you published a novel by working with one of your dearest friends – who happens to also be a smart editor and the perfect business partner. You had meetings over pizza and brunches, giggling all the way.

This was the year you got your first royalty check. It was for about 20 bucks.

This was the year you and your husband went to Scotland. You are already planning to go back.

This was the year you taught Social Justice classes by teaching kids how to research their family trees. It was a huge success – the kids listened, and did the work!

This was the year you bought runes, and stained them red with ochre and your own blood.

This was the year of the SuperConference. You did two sessions and packed the house twice! Then, at the national conference, your boss got elected President.

This was the year you tried contacts. And failed. Glasses forever!

This was the year you took a magical herbalism class, and grew yarrow, motherwort, and catmint in your garden.

This was the year you moved to a new building and finally got an office that was clean enough.

This was the year you were selected to help with College Summit. It was a mistake from the first hour. You learned that your time and experience is worth more than a thank-you water bottle.

This was the year you and your husband made good on your promise and went to see family during the summer. You went swimming and mucked through tide pools and laughed a lot.

This was the year you decided to not remodel the kitchen, and instead had the cabinets stained. Despite what HGTV wants you to believe, you don’t always need a new kitchen. You also replaced a toilet. You were glad you hadn’t spent everything on a kitchen when that became an emergency job.

This year someone gave you a Serger. You signed up for a class, and the thing broke. You still haven’t learned how to use a Serger.

This year you went to Mammoth for his birthday and discovered the he too has childhood memories of a place covered in pine trees and rocks. You tried mountain biking for the first time and it made you sore but you survived.

This was the year you took a 6 week tarot class and loved every single second of it. In the end, it didn’t make you a better tarot reader, but it made you a better counselor.

This was the year you started running. In secret at first. It’s meant a lot of chest pain. But it’s also meant you got to meet that girls again – the one who was the fastest runner in the class and loved to run.

You got a new car! And you love it. You didn’t know you were a car person until you got a new chocolate-colored Mini.

This was the year you and he went out on the front deck and waited for the meteor shower to start. It took forever.

This was the year you got to see you parents, randomly, in October. Your mother has lost a lot of weight and looked so much like your grandmother at first glance it was almost too much to bear. You made them dinner, talked politics with your dad and walked around the lake over and over.

This was the year you went to the quilt show and didn’t buy anything.

This was the year you were invited to a Magis meal and really enjoyed the food and the company more than you ever expected.

This was the year you had to prefect the Night Rally and you got a jersey from a football player. It reeked of sweat so bad it stunk up your office.

This was the year your friend went sober. She told you as you watched her little girl play on a jungle gym. You were reminded, again, that you have sisters.

This was the year you spent your unbirthday feeling pretty good. There were tears, but not as many. And she called again. Perhaps because you are stronger now. This was the year of Trump 20.

This was the year you stayed up late watching election results, worried. You were able to go to bed early once Fox, reluctantly, called it.

This year you helped a friend celebrate her birthday at the St. George distillery in Alameda. You got trivia questions right and got to taste absinthe.

This was the year you went to Palm Springs to help your mother-in-law move into her new house. You cooked, unpacked, and played drunk pool while singing along to Camelot.

This might be the year you found a circle. It might be too soon to tell, but you just got invited back. You made good magic together, and saw a ring around the moon.

This was a good, if hectic, year. A year that probably reverberates out through the rest of your life because of the small and big changes. Only time will tell.

Last year you wrote this.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: