Two Thousand Ten

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."
Zora Neale Hurston

Two Thousand Nine answered.
Two Thousand Ten asked.
[thankgoodness.]

Two Thousand Ten began with quiet hope. Held onto that hope to light the way through the winter months. To spark and light the fire. That would slowly build as seasons passed.

I went home. To restart and regroup. To find that fire in spring, snow-capped peaks. Took my breath away. Handed it back. Inspiration. Expiration.

Returned to sort and to organize. To settle into the liminal. And hot summer days. Which bred determination, focus, and authenticity. Days that organized. Days that healed. Days that whispered and days that yelled.

Seasons changed. Held onto the light while the days grew darker. Huddled around that fire, quietly burning still, as temperatures dropped and hope grew into belief.

Standing at the edge. The edge of this year, the edge of a beginning still unseen, the edge of everything. Certain and uncertain.

Two Thousand Ten asked: What comes next?

I believe Two Thousand Eleven will answer.