Dear future hubster,
a week ago I started creating a Spotify playlist. I called it Resistance, and now I can't rename it, because apparently, you can't do that with Spotify playlists, you would have to delete the whole thing and start a new one with a new name.
If I could rename it, I would probably call it We're Still Here.
I think it's fitting for this end-of-the-year season, to say "this is me, and I'm not going anywhere, so deal with it".
This year has not been easy. Not for the world, not for me. It was rewarding, it taught us many things, it got us to places, but easy it was not. Still, we managed to get this far - the last day of the year (unless you're in East Asia or somewhere in the Pacific, in which case, Happy 2019, dear future hubster), and plan to carry on. We're still here, and we are who we are, only a little more experienced than this time last year.
There is a chance that 2019 won't be much easier. Hell it may be even harder. And there is not much we can do to prevent or influence what the year brings on. But once it's brought it on, it's all ours to tackle it any way we choose. Life is weird, love is hard, traffic is awful and don't even get me started on the weather. But we can choose to be equally weird, love a little softer, don't give too many damns about the traffic, and maybe sometimes proverbially dance in the rain (not in the middle of traffic though).
So when the ball drops and Auld Lang Syne starts and there will be fireworks around Miss Libby, I'll be ready to say, "Bring it on, 2019. We're still here."