Dear 2007,

When you were a baby 364 days ago, I don't think either of us expected you to turn out the way you have. As you entered this world, we both had such high hopes for what you would bring to my life. Now as I put you to rest, I see my hopes then and my hopes now are intermingled in a web of similarities and vast differences. Neither one of us looks the same physically or emotionally as we did when we met on January 1 at the stroke of midnight. I never imagined your tenure would play out this way. Did you?

This year you brought me oceans of tears and pain. But you also gave me seas of smiles and infinite happiness. You reminded me of the sorrow that death brings. But you also revealed the joy a birth brings to the lives of those around me. You changed my entire perception of love but forced me to witness the beauty of it in the lives of others.

2007, for a while there I thought you had placed a revolving door at the entrance to my life with the influx of people running in and out of it. But as you got older, I realized that I was cleaning house to make room for the invaluable people I cherish more and more each day. You have introduced me to some characters this year. Some I will never forget. Others I have forgotten already. You brought someone back into my life that I never thought I would see again, the same someone who I'm not sure if I will see again. You introduced me to someone who's company I thoroughly enjoy without any pretense and few expectations. You opened my eyes to see the true spirit of the people around me, good bad and fugly (fugly = fucking ugly, in case you were wondering. hahahahahaa)

2007, you helped me to find my voice this year. The voice to sing the melody of my dream to write professionally. The voice to stand up for myself in a way I never knew I possessed. The voice to say some really difficult shit when it needed to be said. The voice to laugh at myself. The voice to ask for help even when my pride was trying to silence me. The voice to be courageous enough to post some of my innermost feelings on my blog page. The voice to shut up when I've said all I care to say without repeating myself over and over again.

I have christened you my Year of Lessons, 2007. I've learned that the depth of my strength is infinite. I've learned that the plate the Lord serves me is larger than I ever imagined because He heaps loads and loads onto it and apparently its never more than I can handle. I'm still standing with His help and guidance, of course. I've learned that dating is actually fun, and that I'm in no rush for anything. I've learned that the nice and easy pace of a slow grind is waaaaaaaaaaaay more intoxicating and satisfying than the punishment of the BANG BANG BANG pounding (still not going to shed a tear though, hahahahahaha). I've learned how to check my emotions at the door before they cloud my judgement on the reality of what's at hand. I learned how to walk it out, how to drop down low and sweep the floor with it, dance like a soulja boy, shuffle with cupid, and manage a drink while I 2 step (actually, I learned that a while ago but I think I perfected it this year...hahahahahaha). I've learned that everything happens for a reason and to embrace the lesson each experience brings my way. I've learned that I am no closer to being perfect than I was 364 days ago. I've learned that meaningless people provide opportunity for meaningful introspection.

While I can't take you with me into 2008, I will never forget my Year of Lessons. Some years blur and fade into the next. But you will always stand out as a year of preparation for the next chapter of my life. I'm thinking of dubbing 2008, my Year of Lessons in Action. What do you think? I figured I learned so much from you that I might as well put these lessons into motion. All in your honor.

I have to go now. I need to prepare for the arrival of 2008. This year I'm welcoming '08 in style. If I ever get nostalgic for the memories of you and I together, at least I have this blog to come back to. Thank you for everything.

Smooches,
Janelle