slip-sliding away…..

Though many regard you with disdain, from such insults I shall refrain, choosing instead to focus on the many gifts you’ve brought.

You started on a high, with the release of a years-in-the-making book. And, while the virtual house arrest of lockdown put a halt to progress on that front, you were filled with many more publishing highs – a rich vein of inspiration pushing out numerous bits of writing I still treasure; publication in this anthology and this one; a podcast episode of a children’s story; and a rapidly-assembled anthology of COVID-inspired writing, which will hopefully preserve the human memory of an otherwise news-dominated pandemic. Along with this, you held further opportunities to speak on radio and, for the first time, via video – including a first-ever live reading of poetry (which had previously been confined to writing alone).

And though I hoped you would also include strides into another two books on my menu, you taught me that it was OK to stop. To give myself the space to just be, and not risk further burnout by pushing into passion projects which held overwhelming workloads – needing to fit into free time after the demands of a full-time job and family.

Your COVID-induced confinement also sparked a revival of a dearly-beloved childhood pastime – with more reading this year than any other in my adult life.

Of course, you’ve also seen me – and much of the world – working from home, offering both frustration and much joy, with special memories of Winter lunch breaks where my favourite 7-year old and I would have the “best tea party ever” over and over again.

You brought us an isolated, painfully-difficult Ramadaan, farewells to old ways of life and open doors to new ones, unique meditations on stillness and equality, the joys of Winter, plus – eventually – the renewed freedom of hiking and weekend getaways.

You held a lot — perhaps way too much — watching and playing, but also revitalised exercise habits, along with the making of beautiful future memories in the long Summer afternoons and late nights, where sleep was a secondary consideration as we hung on to family time that would never come again in this exact form; precious moments of childhood innocence before the teenage years hit, transforming life into a yet-unknown form. When parallels became visible between my own childhood and that of my kids, as I stand now in the role of the doting father who will eventually see his family branch out, though I hope we’ll remain together longer than my own family did.

For life will move on. Things will change. The kids won’t always have all four grandparents around. And, perhaps, we won’t always live in this comfortably peaceful, yet sometimes frustratingly-small – home, filled with light and memories and habits and routines…the place I’ve called home for more years than any other in my four decades on this planet.

You were the year I hit the big 4-0, a milestone I felt more than any other turn of age in recent times, as aches and pains follow exercise, and I see why – in older circles – conversations inevitably revolve around medication and health-related treatments.

There’s so much more I could say to capture you, yet I won’t – for words could never do justice to the immense experiences – highs, lows, and all that lies between – and lessons you’ve brought.

So, as we approach your very last days, I bid you farewell, and pray that your successor outdoes you in all that is good, but that it also brings a final end to your era-defining pandemic.

Farewell, 2020. You shall never be forgotten…