The Last Jet I Flew...and some thoughts looking toward a new year

Here we are. The new year stretches like an immense scroll of blank paper before us, clean and untouched, disappearing into the ether, awaiting the ink and smudges of our daily struggle. The past year stretches out behind us, bearing the print of our thoughts and actions, stained with spills, strikethroughs, blackouts, tears (and tears), rips, beautiful prose, memories (good and bad), pages upon which we would dwell fondly in our thoughts, and pages we would like to forget. Each day is really such spot upon the great scroll of life; we just give it special significance with the turn of the new year. 

The new year is full of promise; we will be better than we have been; we will improve. January begins pregnant with hope and resolution. Before February, most of the hope and all of the resolution expire, stillborn in the face of winter's grim and frigid reality, and our recognition that we would rather embrace our weaknesses than fearlessly forge them into strengths. 

We imagine this:

We discover that it's really going to be like this:

Like water, we choose the path of least resistance. Having followed that path so many times before, the way is worn and easy, with sides too steep and slick to easily overcome. But this year might just be different. Small goals are still goals. Gradual achievement by small increments builds eventually to lofty attainment. Of course, procrastination can be very satisfying in the short term. You decide.

The conclusion of the travelogue
The last jet I flew in was from San Francisco to Boise. I can't remember much about the flight. I think maybe I had the cranapple juice. We arrived at night, several hours later than the original itinerary had promised. My son picked us up. He drove us to my parents' house where we had left our car. We had a nice visit; we shared some of the high points of the trip before loading up and heading home. 

That drive was the last leg of the trip; it was the most difficult. We had risen before 7:00 a.m in France. That was 11:00 p.m. in Boise (of the day before). We arrived back home after midnight. We were awake for over 25 hours (or I was; I'm pretty sure my wife slept on the plane from France). That's not something that I haven't done before (or more plainly stated: I have stayed awake longer than that before). I don't know if it was the travel or what, but I was completely exhausted. So a good nap during the drive would have done me a world of good...except that I was the one driving. I think I did sleep for a millisecond during the drive; I'm pretty sure I had a dream during that minute foray into the twilight zone of consciousness. I've never understood how people can fall asleep while driving...now I understand.

What a great year!