“Have you made your New Year’s Resolutions?”
“No, should I have?” I don’t know why I feel slightly defensive at the question. “Have you?”
“I’m still thinking about it.” He approaches each resolution as a SMART goal to be tackled and owned, well before the end of the year.
I don’t want mine to be perfunctory. There ought to be some deep thought, some spiritual inner work, some reflection and profound meaning attached to the crafting of resolutions. Perhaps they are not meant to be shared lightly over a sip of champagne at midnight, or dismissed, later in the day, over black-eyed peas and sauerkraut, as we hedge our bets for luck astride the Mason-Dixon line.
For some, it is merely pro forma. They’ll abandon their hastily-scribbled, half-heartedly made resolutions in the blink of an eye, then question why anyone bothers making them, as if all are doomed to fail. There ought to be more gravitas to this “Making of the New Year’s Resolutions.” Some solemn ceremony. Real commitment.
Be a better person, I write, then cross it out. What does “better” look like? Be kinder, I write. I cross that out, too. That should be a continuous improvement effort, not a resolution.
“You’re overthinking this, aren’t you?” He shakes his head and laughs.
“Mm.” I still have four days. Four days to keep last year’s resolution.
I haven’t killed anyone. Yet.