It’s that time of year; nearly the end of the year, another 12 months in the vault of my life. As I flick back through my diary of the past months, I am amazed by how much was jammed into most hours of each day and how few days had little or nothing in them. I think I am the kind of person that, when they see a blank slate before them, they feel moved to write something in it. Every year, I start planning for the next year and sometimes the following, before the year is out. There is something very comforting about assuming that if I make that plan for next year, organize the flights, the book shows abroad or my father’s 97th birthday, then that is the format for still planning to be alive to make the plan happen.
Gotta have dates in the diary, as the saying goes — for those of us who still love and live by a diary. 2026 is already featuring strongly a year ahead in my planning, regardless what she has in store for me. And then, just around the corner is 2027.
Not that there’s anything wrong with a blank slate, a week of nothingness. Sometimes I just crave a lack of events or obligations and then mess it up by eventing or obliging myself to attend an obligation. Character is fate and I am, on occasion, my own worst enemy.
But here, as I sit on the cusp of another joint replacement, I see that the diary is strangely empty. “Surgery” is there, as is “PT,” “post op” and all those other tedious things, but no fun trips, no flights and certainly no book shows. I’ve done all the shows I can fit into this year, though I am working on, tentatively, two manuscripts right now because I just cannot help myself. I see myself now with leg up and doing it’s magical healing thing, working on achieving further goals — finishing up another book of columns from the last few years, re-writing and re-releasing my very first book of columns I ever wrote, plus finalizing my next children’s book and all the plans I have for the April book show in my hometown.
These are great healing occupations — in between physio and leg exercises — and, let’s face it, the ones best kept for the wintertime. The last surgery I had was in high summer when I’d rather be swimming or enjoying the great outdoors and this made for a rather grumpy and impatient patient! My attitude definitely delayed the speed of my healing, and we won’t be doing that again this time. I’ve promised my nurse daughter that I will be a much more compliant patient this time around. When you know better, you do better, apparently.
Since I will most likely have no health insurance coverage next year, this is the best time to take care of the procedure I need, so that I can be up on my game in the coming years, as healthy and buoyant as I can muster at the ripe old age of where I currently find myself. Sometimes the planets align to put baby in the corner of her decision-making and that is where baby finds herself. There is no choice, needs must, and the needs must time of opportunity is next week.
“Oh, fantastic, a quiet Christmas at last!” stated husband, rather suspiciously gleeful. He seemed strangely excited that, due to my upcoming surgery, I shall be forced to stay in one place for a period of time. No planning, no booking, no road trips or adventures to Saint Elsewhere. Nope, we would be home with our animals and enjoying our twinkly lights for the duration. I see Christmas movies stacking up on the DVR and empty days in the calendar, which is no bad thing. I have books that are waiting to be read and stories that need to be finished. If there were a perfect time to have surgery, this might just be that time.
I’ve completed my wrapping and packing — not that I am doing much of that this year. We have delivered birthdays and Christmas to our grandbabies all the way in Sacramento, which is the main thing. Our local family is going to enjoy a proper Christmas celebration this year — the reason for the season, let’s face it — and all things at Solace will be twinkly and bright.
If I dare to take a pre-Christmas peek at January of 2026, when I hope to be nearly fully mobile again, there are already date boxes being scratched in pencil, as the Queen of Busydom launches herself forward into another year of exhaustive potential. Throughout the holiday season, I shall endeavor to stay more peaceful than usual, less intent on going out and doing and more focused on health and healing in the safety of my own home, through the early darks of winter and out the other side towards spring.
Sending peace to you and yours at Christmas and through the end of this very busy year. Thank you for reading my stories. Just when I think that it might be time to lay down my pencil, as it were, someone will compliment me on this or that story and remind me why I do this. It’s a habit and a discipline, but also a pleasure. The more I write, the more I want to write, and it fills me with satisfaction when I write something others may possibly want to read. Find your passion cup and keep it full, that would be my advice to you.
Happy Christmas from my home at Solace to you at yours. May you make time to find the reason for the season, be kind to others when no one is looking and go easy on filling up your diary for the coming year. The new year will come soon enough without need for over-anticipation. Find the time in your hearts to enjoy the twinkle and the quiet in the coming days. Reflect on where you have been and where you hope to go. That needs to be enough for the coming days, I tell myself.
