Warm greetings and holiday cheer seemingly wrap everything in place. 
Grey skies and cold nights, here are December's final days. 
Sweet treats and carefree laughter from the many lucky souls, 
who, on this festive season, have finally found their ways back home.


Here we are, finally; in the time warp that separates New Year's Eve and Christmas Day. The very last week of 2017, where all that's left to do is hold onto whatever fond memory the year has given us, and to whatever hope we can find for the year that's about to come.

It's also in this week that the topic of "New Year's Resolutions" would frequently come up. Sometimes big, specific goals are planned (like buying a new home), other times, people aim for milestones (like getting married or graduating college.) This time, however, when it comes to resolutions, I – a person who'd normally enjoy meticulously planning every detail of my life before it actually takes place – surprisingly have none.

When we make resolutions, we envision a better version of ourselves. For some, better is healthier. For others, better is wealthier. Then, throughout the year, we push ourselves to continually try and close the gap between where we are and where we want to be. But unlike the brave people who decide that 2018 will be a year they lose weight, get a promotion, travel far, or find true love, in facing the new year, I find myself with an attitude that is whispered in three small words, "Come what may."

"What is meant for you will reach you, even if it's placed beneath two mountains. 
What isn't meant for you will not reach you, even if it's placed between your two lips." 

When I found this quote several days ago, I didn't know it was something I desperately needed to hear. After a lifetime of placing high expectations on myself, my soul, it seems, has learned to finally yield.

Being the type of person that I am, it is surprising for me to be able to leave a year and enter the next in a state of total surrender. Okay, seriously, what do you want?, I'd keep asking myself. At the end of the day, my answer stays the same: I want nothing that God doesn't want me to have, and everything within what He's given me the capacity to receive.

There are about three days left of this turbulent year, and about twenty-five before I start a new life abroad. For both cases, though, I'm simply trying my best to make a graceful exit. During these moments of in-between, I'm left to do what I can and hope that it's enough; to be mindful of the paths God is calling me to take, to carry myself with strength whenever it's needed, and to leave the year with as much peace in my heart as I can.

Today, with only a few sleeps away before the conffetti-and-fireworks rage that comes after the countdown, signaling "the start of a new chapter" for many of us, I tell myself to pause and reflect. I tell myself that there are decisions we could never undo, the same way that there are moments we couldn't step back into. But we are also not a product of our mishaps, the same way we are not defined by our shortcomings. Through it all, I stand firm with my belief that everything happens for a reason. And unlike human emotion, reason sometimes takes a little longer to unravel.

Perhaps that's what I'm coming to realize; that not having a carefully-designed Pinterest board made of dreams for 2018, is not the same as giving up. It's also not to be mistaken with me being too pessimistic. I have no resolutions simply because I am certain about absolutely nothing. I have no resolutions because I don't know what lies ahead, and I'm not in the mood to pretend like I do. 

So instead of dreaming about a better life, distant in the future, I'm only committing to endurance. If 2017 has taught me anything, it's that with just enough time, a lot of things can fall apart, but a lot of things can also be rebuilt. But at whatever point I find myself, be it in the deep waters, or high on a mountaintop, it is endurance that'll make sure I keep going. 

So I say, come what may, in my both nostalgic and hopeful misery. 
So I say, come what may, for this is an ode to a future's mystery.
So I say, come what may, for a heart takes more time than a broken bone. 
So I say, come what may, for I am never certain, never perfect, 
but also never, ever alone.


After writing this, I understand that this might not make sense to a lot of you, but despite it being a little personal and sentimental, I hope this short piece has helped inspire you in any way. Please bear with me if it's a little dry; I haven't written a piece in so many days. 

What you might not know, though, is that to this, I ended up writing another piece; an epilogue or poem, of sorts. It's titled "A Town of Memories" and you can read it here.

Also, I've been diving into the act of writing letters. I don't know if it's just a phase, or if it's because Christmas just leaves you with a lot of emotions. Either way, writing long, unsent letters have been pretty therapeutic, and I'd suggest any person who likes to write to do the same.

And where have I been? 

Elsewhere, really.

I hope I see you soon.