End-of-Year Reflection (2020)

Whenever I’m in Spain I go to bed with a smile on my face every night, confident in the fact that I squeezed every bit of marrow from each day that I could because I know those days are limited and I have to make the very best of them. Twenty-twenty was like that for me - I felt I was given the gift of time, but I didn’t know for how long, so I had to make the most of it every day by turning long-held dreams and visions into reality. So often I come up with ideas of things I want to do or create, but they stay just that, ideas. I once read that the universe whispers ideas into you, but if you continually ignore them or “later” them, its voice will fade away from you, and it will go whisper those same ideas into someone else who will make them a reality. I don’t want someone else creating the things this universe had originally planned for me, or worse yet, for the universe to stop whispering ideas to me altogether.

This year I’ve been re-discovering what it means to be Kelsey. For so long my identity has been in my traveling and split life between USA and Spain, but then that was suddenly ripped away from me and I was left floundering. One of the first things people ask when they see me is “So where to next?” or “What was your most recent trip?” and while I love that people associate travel with me, it made me feel completely lost and worthless when I could no longer answer those questions, and people seemed disappointed or like they lost interest in me as a person as opposed to a traveler. So I’ve been experimenting and doing to figure out what other facets of Kelsey there are.

And while twenty-nineteen was the year of travel, twenty-twenty was the year of learning and doing. I learned how to refinish hardwood floors, how to tile floors, how to work power tools, how to paint, and sew, and take better photos; I learned how to build and expand this website, how dig a trench and run conduit, and a whole lot about how to maneuver my way through the legal system.

I also learned the power of physical touch, video calls, and slowing down. I learned that I’m more of an introvert than I thought, and that I truly enjoy being alone. I learned how to better accept help, and even how to unabashedly ask for it.

I wrote more letters and postcards than ever, I spent more time with my family, and I enjoyed more luxurious days in bed watching Netflix than in my whole life combined - something I’ve learned to give myself more grace about, especially in light of this year’s circumstances.

I’ve seen more sunrises and sunsets this year, than maybe all other years combined. And not just seen them, but sat and watched them fully. I’ve especially enjoyed these last couple weeks when I grab a cup of tea after my last online class, sit in the glow of my Christmas tree, and wait quietly until the world is washed in sunlight.

I appreciated each flower that bloomed in my yard, and watching them slowly change from buds to blooms. I noticed patterns of raindrops falling down my windows, and even stopped to admire - and video record! - the dancing shadows the reflection of spewing and puddled sewer water made in my basement. I noticed the first tinge of green in all the trees, and noticed every little change they made until the day the last leaf dropped, brown, to the ground, and then I listened attentively to the crunching sounds they made under my feet as I slowly walked Mischa around my block twice a day. I noticed the thousands of earthworms that make their home just beneath the surface of my yard, as I let Mischa out around 2am every night to pee, and marveled at how fast they would slither back in their holes at the sudden ray of light thrust upon them from my phone. I listened closely to the tranquil buzzing of bees, and I explored unknown Kansas treasures.

I’ve simply been more present. Though very different from my country-hopping, go-go-go “normal,” it too has been good.

And mostly, every year I continue to learn that I am stronger than I ever thought possible.