A younger coworker was doing her best to convince me to go to the company holiday party. I smiled at each of her reasons for why I should go, but was not moved in my decision. Another coworker closer to my age who had been observing our exchange joined in... “You’re just not there right now. You’re not in that space.” She said it with such knowing, such easy acceptance that I was not only grateful for but comforted by her understanding.

End of year is usually a time for celebrating. Celebrating what you achieved, what you survived, what you learned, how you grew. I’m usually the first to call out to my group of friends: “Who’s hosting?” Or, “Who wants to come over for...?” during the holiday season. 

But this year... 2019 has been a different kind of year for me. And I feel the need for a different kind of celebrating. This year was one of many losses for me and for several people close to me. The losses themselves were a shock, emotional bombshells each one. But each loss came with a gift inside. A jewel of learning and of becoming that the loss necessitated. There was gain and growth this year as well, but not the flashy growth and gain of here-and-gone spring annuals, but the unfurling of a few leaves and a slow, upward stretching and outward thickening of a central trunk - the decidedly unshowy growth of evergreens and perennials. 

Celebrating that kind of growth looks a little different. It looks like more intimate gatherings with smaller groups of friends - people who appreciate leaves as much as they do flowers. It looks like quiet time alone to reflect and sigh and smile and cry. It looks like notebooks filled with lessons learned from moments of confusion and hurt. It looks like opting out of the company party to go to a neighborhood gathering where the conversations will be more authentic, the hugs inappropriately long, the food cooked by hands I know. 

When I look back and recall the ways i chose to celebrate the end of this year, this decade... I believe i’ll be glad that I consciously chose to not just celebrate the season as dictated by calendar or custom, but as dictated by my own life’s season. 

Today, another coworker sent a text, “You missed out on a great party...”

I replied: “I didn’t miss out. I chose.”

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