The stillness of the house is like a pond in a winter’s morning. It beckons me to sit and just listen to the tick of the clock like a cricket in the weeds. Instead of leaping up and jumping in, I sat down and napped in the yawning silence. I haven’t had time to myself in a week and a half.

I organized my linen closet yesterday because I asked for new towels for Christmas. I filled three trash bags full of stuff I don’t need anymore or maybe never needed. A white matelasse bedspread I’ll never use as well as old towels and curtains. The new year’s purge has begun and halted.

I am standing slightly timid at the possibility to actually create a year that I want to live instead of shoving myself through the motions of a year I think I Ought to be living. I want a year of coulds instead of shoulds. When I hear the sole bird singing in the morning hours, he is singing for the possibilities.

A flashback to the New Year's pause two years ago. I couldn't say it any better and I'm still in the same space sorta.

Guided by my word for 2019, Focus, I will sift through my life’s leftover belongings purposefully searching for my possibilities and ditching the forced goals of 2018. I will acknowledge my fears and query my worries and entertain my what ifs. And I will slather myself with heaps of compassion during the process.

I am considering how I want my blog to serve me instead of me being enslaved by it. So excuse the tardiness of my post today as I gather and test my thoughts.

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