December 31, 2025
Wednesday

It’s nine in the evening, the end of December. Harrisburg’s cold, but I like where I’m living. I’m trying to keep some kind of record. — With apologies to Leonard Cohen, who probably wouldn’t mind

I offer no words of wisdom nor cackles of frivolity tonight, as fast away the old year passes. I am alone in my kitchen, exactly where and how I want to be. I’m FINE!

I made an announcement on Facebook last night: I have decided to seek admission to a program leading to an MFA in creative writing. I didn’t say I’m going to get an MFA. I’m taking one thing at a time. First get admitted. To that end, I opened an account in the application portal of a program I like. That announcement has amassed in just 24 hours nearly 100 likes and loves and such, and a lot of comments encouraging me. I am astonished at that level of support, and I am grateful for every one.

I am grateful for so much right now. 2025 has been hard in many different ways for most of the people I know. It isn’t necessary to go over all that stuff right now. A wise friend who describes himself as in recovery from addiction and despair and loss says that healing doesn’t mean forgetting or minimizing the pain. It means choosing freedom over resentment, and peace over replaying the past. Forgiveness isn’t weakness, it is strength, quietly changing everything.

I leave 2025, then, with some words I’ve used more than once in year-end messages.

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)

trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)

honor the past
but welcome the future . . . 
— E. E. Cummings, 1894-1962

Good night.