Boarding in a half an hour for my big Asian adventure. Jitters over. I am thinking about one of my favorite poems, by the late Lucille Clifton, titled “i am running into a new year”:
I am runnning into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twenty-six and thirty-six
even thirty-six but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me
Even thirty six! Just imagine how many more things I and others my age have said to ourselves about ourselves, in now roughly twice that number of years. All those chances for reinvention, rethinking, repairing, rebirthing.
And it goes on. Hello, next chapter! I am ready for you. The wind is in my hair.
Lucille Clifton 1936-2010