tiny dancer

She believes things come in threes. Namely deaths. She believes this as though it were a natural law. When one person dies, two more are sure to follow. It’s to be expected.

A celebrity dies, breaking news on CNN, followed by one of her acquaintances, she will announce, “They come in threes.” She thinks any one person can die and that will tie into the third. But they have to have relation to each other. Three celebrities. Three politicians. Three friends. Three family. Not a celebrity, a religious leader and a family member. We roll our eyes at her, but she continues to believe.

If it’s on the news, or written about, it must be true. She reads the obituaries every morning with her coffee. She’s far from graceful, but she always answers the phone with a smile on her face. She has a tendency to steal things from restaurants. Like salt & pepper shakers, ashtrays, or water jugs. Of course this means nothing in her kitchen matches, but they’re all treasured by her.

She repeats clichés so often that it becomes timed. “Lining their pockets” is a favourite of hers, said mostly in regards to politicians. She won’t say the word ‘fat’ instead she chooses to demonstrate what fat looks like as she circles her arms around her body in wide circles. She thinks this is less obvious than saying the word itself.

There are times that she looks old, older than she is, usually when she is worried. And there are times when she looks young, younger than she is, usually when she is tucked under his arm. She doesn’t laugh at herself.

She’s obsessive to a degree that is dangerously close to compulsive, but not just yet. She’s fearless, yet she panics in the face of a challenge. She’s thoughtful, but part of me wonders if it isn’t just habit. She nods and mmm-hmmms when she agrees with something on TV and when she disagrees she clucks her tongue at the screen. She gives a run-down of everything going on around her even though we can see it as well.

She can’t keep a secret, even at Christmas. When she laughs, you can’t help but join in. Even when the joke is on you.

resolve

I resolve to be nicer. More compassionate and try not to judge so quickly. I resolve to stop imagining the worst of people, and the worst possible scenario. I resolve to find more than one thing to like in someone I don’t. I resolve to let go of the past; it can’t be changed no matter how hard I wish it, and though it can’t be changed, I resolve to learn from it.

I resolve to make cookies every month for the people I work with. To volunteer more, and get the Christmas Spirit back. I resolve to face my greatest fears and get past all that has held me back. To be more generous, and remember that in a heart beat that could be me. To say my prayers every single night, and attend church every now and then.

I resolve to say I love you more often and to smile more. To save money, and spend less. I resolve to learn, and teach. I resolve to be more patient, and understanding, and less sarcastic. To stop thinking I can’t and replace it with I can, and will. To stop saying I will try. To give more of myself, and less of my opinion, unless I am asked.

I resolve to be kinder to my mother, and listen closer to my father. To spend more time with those I love. I resolve to try new things. To come out of retirement from babysitting. To lose control every now and then and like it. To make more friends. To share.

I resolve to stop pretending I don’t see people I don’t want to talk to, and to watch more classic movies. To have salad for lunch but to eat dessert. To read even more. To confide in my sister and to write letters to my other sister more often. I resolve to consider going blonde. Seriously.

I resolve to make this the best year of my life, not by luck, but by working hard to make it so.