Ten Years Later

At the end of 1999, to mark the passing of the millennium, Joe, myself and our three kids wrote down what we thought we’d be doing ten years into the future. On New Year’s Day of this year, we pulled out our predictions and read them to one another. While I won’t share what everyone else wrote, here were my thoughts in the dying days of 1999:

It is of course hard to even fathom what life might be like for my family and myself ten years from now. I pray that we’ll all still be alive and healthy and that we have more happy days than sad.

I hope that none of my children has been at war, or is now at war, or will ever have to be at war.

I like to think that Alan, now 22 and Iris, now 20 have found some purpose in their lives – something that drives them and makes them feel good about themselves; something that they know in their hearts is worth sharing with humankind. I hope Jamie, while still only 16, will soon find that too…if he hasn’t already. I suspect he has, although maybe even he doesn’t know it yet.

I also suspect the amazing sense of humour that all three of my children were born with thanks to their father has fully blossomed for all to enjoy. As I write this in 1999, I can’t wait to know you kids ten years from now!

Ten years from now I will be 50, and probably rather puzzled at how it is that more than half of my life is over. If I’m lucky I have another 30 or 40 years left. If I’m really lucky I’ll get to spend all those years with Joe…someone who I have no doubt is still the most complicated man I’ve ever met but someone who has stretched me and allowed me to grow in ways he’ll never know. I love you dearly Joe and hope that your sense of peace and faith has continued to grow. I hope that some of your amazing qualities that our children couldn’t see when they were younger have become apparent to them, or will as they themselves grow…your sense of integrity, your firm belief in what’s right and wrong, and your understanding of why so much is to be gained by working hard for what you want.

I hope that the piano is still a big part of my life and that in some way, I am able to impart to others how much music can feed the soul, spirit and mind.

Most important, I hope that I was (and am) a good mom. I hope you kids remember above everything else that I love you more than life itself. If by chance I’ve passed on when you’re reading this, believe that I will do everything in my power to be with you from whatever place I find myself, in whatever way I can. Happy 2010!! 

Reading this now, it strikes me what a hopeful and optimistic person I was back then. Sadly I think I’ve lost some of that in the last 10 years. Truth be told, I feel a bit battered and bruised from raising three teenagers. Some people who were important to me are no longer in my life, without me understanding why (my sister-in-law for instance, who died after mixing two cleaning products…now what was the purpose of that?!).

While I’m not one to make New Year’s resolutions, I would like to set a goal for myself of finding that hope and optimism again. Not that it’s totally gone, but it has lost its shine just a tad. Maybe that in part is what my Camino will be about.

Hmmm, I didn’t mean my first post of 2010 to be such a downer! I really am excited about what this year might bring and in fact what the next 10 years might bring.  Happy New Year everyone and may the good guys win!

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