I should warn my reader that as I write this I am having white wine and various hor doevres so forgive me if I get a little maudlin. It is that time of year when we look back on our lives and try to figure out just where the hell we are going. This time last year I wrote in this blog how thrilled I was to kiss 2010 goodbye. I am sorry to say I must say the same for 2011. How sad and bitterly ironic that the Year of the Rabbit should have such a terrible year for me. I lost my beloved rabbit Woodstock, and moved out of my husband's life into a condo, apparently much to his great joy (you would never know I lived in that lovely townhouse if you visited it today.) I sit here relieved this year is all but done but i also fear for the future. My beloved Boo has already had surgery for bladder stones and may have molar issues ahead. My Cinnamon is starting to exhibit signs of what I call old timers' disease. She will sit, staring into space for minutes at a time rocking her body ever so slightly back and forth. They are my family here now, and just the mere hint off a health issue with them scares the dickens out of me.
So where will I be this time next year? How will I be feeling? I certainly hope better than I do now. I don't like fear and uncertainty and I feel both of these in spades. I know I must take charge of my life--the question is, how? In what direction? The only dreams I ever had died with my marriage and there is such a void, it is difficult to imagine how I can possibly fill it. Being vegan doesn't even console me as it once did. I don't have much energy or will to cook like I once did, for all the marvelous vegan cookbooks I have. I eat convenient vegan food--and that is not good. Yet to do more, to make a lot of work for myself in concocting fancy vegan meals just for me, seems to be a great waste of time and resources.
In sum, I don't know what the hell I want. I only know I love my rabbits and want to be there for them always. They are why I still get up every morning. Hard to say right now what I would do without them. I need them so. Boo and Cinnamon will get me through 2012, just as they pulled me through the last month. Maybe--just maybe--2012 will be the year my heart starts to heel from losing Woodstock. Now and for always he will thrive in my lonely heart, my dear sweet bun.
Raise a glass--welcome 2012. Please be better than 2011.