I am pretty sure that just ten itty-bitty seconds ago I was eighteen and flittering about in my cheerleader’s uniform still trying to figure out who I was and what life meant. All the while I practiced a sexy Vogue pose or two with Madonna to prove I was Like No-Virgin she had ever met (Was I? probably not) and two-stepped alongside Garth, my man and all those friends I loved so much In Low Places. Reba called out to my broken heart in the middle of the night while the Eagles reminded me to finally (for God’s sake) let someone love the real me trapped in this Desperado heart of mine. Of course, being the pain in the ass I was, I decided not to…and did a few drum solos with Phil Collins instead while I wondered what exactly what was In the Air Tonight, anyway?!
Blink…it was ten years ago and I walked across my medical school stage with a sexy dress on underneath my gown (that no one knew about but my BFFs) while I prayed Rob Thomas just might actually teach me something new about being Smooth. Of course he didn’t, couldn’t be bothered because he was way too busy on tour with Santana to stop for long in Dallas… and so George Michael sang me Careless Whispers while I didn’t sleep at night, on-call, and daydreamed of one of my dreamiest classmates instead. (Man, that one broke my heart and I still smile thinking about that Dr. Dreamy, of course.)
Blink…it was five years ago and I was the one singing about purple dinosaur families that are so happy…and I Love You while You Love Me…and All the Pretty Little Horses. Darn my gorgeous Rock-A-Bye Babies slept sometimes so soundly, yet sometimes not so soundly in their cribs. And I tried way too hard to figure out how I would buy them a Mockingbird or better yet, diamond rings that eventually just turned to brass anyway.
Blink…my babies were no longer babies.
Blink…I was forty. Holy heck a hunka- forty!
Blink…it’s 2017 and I am sitting here typing this and pondering what will set this, of all years, apart from so many before it that flew by in such a blink of an eye while I danced to this song or that?
Thankfully, like always, Lionel Richie (my Endless Love) and so many other prophetic songs come to rescue me: Adele sings to me about how I’m On My Mind while I sit here wondering why it has taken me so long to accept that this is going to be my best year yet! I hope the same for you.
So here my doubts go, baby. This is what 2017 means for me:
It means forgiveness. Screw forgiveness, it means thankfulness and celebration through “properly blaming” those who made me a better, stronger person while they helped me (even though I used to see it as hurting me).
It means that I will open my heart to all the love trying to get in because for heaven’s sake I’ll kiss my desperado ways good-bye for good. Kiss. Kiss.
And I’ll choose to be my best self every day (and hopefully encourage others to do the same) because I’ll see things the way God would have me see them.
When I fail– I’ll fail fast, hard, and always forward, damn it.
I’ll learn even more quickly and maybe even take a whole new road like Dyer.
I’ll Love fiercely, freely and unconditionally… especially myself.
I’ll fess up about all the lies I have been telling myself for so long when I look in the mirror. Finally…I’ll speak the truth to that little child trapped inside me. The one I wounded so long ago. I’ll say to her, “Come out… it’s ok. It’s time. Finally.”
And she’ll probably laugh nervously, but eventually believe me when I tell her enough times that, “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.”
And we will play like we should have all those stupid forgettable years that flew by before this one.
And something tells me that even if this year also goes by in the blink of an eye, I’ll be better for it and my vision so much clearer because of it.
Because this year my only goal, my every goal is to be real, authentic, and truly free of the bullshit mask I held so close to my face. That’s why.
… And when a little girl, all grown up, talks like that, it’s not her mouth speaking–it’s her heart. “Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.” Can you hear it?
And you know twenty years later, Madonna was right… I am crazy for you. Maybe it’s time, you be crazy for you too darling. Let’s try it together then. Come with me…into 2017–our eyes open, our hearts beating, our faces totally mask-free, and our wishes granted because we finally allow them to come true. Finally.
Much love. I surrender. Can you?
–From a newer and much better A. Nicky Hjort–circa 2017!
Read the rest of the Lavish Author’s 2017 Welcomes here!