Well, I’m starting off the year sick in bed. I have my water bottle, my cup of Vitamin C hot tea, and my zero sugar kombucha. I had hopes for January 1st this year. I’ve had a lot of motivation leading into this day for new and altered healthy routines. So I feel a bit humbled right now. Being sick in bed on New Year’s Day is a reminder that despite me making goals and lofty health routines for myself, I am not in control of most of the variables in my life.
But 2026 is here, and so am I. So is my wife. So are my sons. We are here. And that’s all I need today.
Micah and Ezra went to bed last night with tears as they reminisced on the past year. We had a good year, for sure. We spent time on a cruise, and we were in New Orleans on Marty Gras. We went to a beach in North Carolina with my family in July, a spot that I used to go to when I was a kid. It was special to create these memories with them.
As he was getting his bedsheets adjusted looked at me with gratitude, “This was the best year of my life, Dad. I really liked it. Thank you.”
Micah chimed in, and with very wet eyes said, “I’m feeling emotional, Dad, thinking about the past year. I’m sad it’s over.”
I love my kids.
So huddled up under my bed sheets today I rest and reflect on my phrase for the year: “What we need is here.”
I don’t need to mope. I don’t need to whine. I need to let go and look around to the abundance around me. I can hear Sarah and Ezra listening to a documentary in the living room. The New Year’s sky is gray today, which matches very much how I feel. Our teenagers are out in the house vacuuming and cleaning up after the past days’ festivities. Our assistant is taking care of them, today, something I’m so thankful for on a day when I feel so terrible.
At my bedside, I have books of poetry, my journal, my headphones. I suppose as I rest I can look forward to simply giving myself over to all that is here in this moment. It is all I need today.
I wrote a poem out the other day in anticipation of today, not knowing I’d be sick. But I like to reflect on my favorite poems and adapt them to my own life. It’s simply a personal practice of mine. I wouldn’t ever be able to publish them in a book or anything, but it’s a fun exercise for me to use the framework of someone else’s life and then transpose it onto my own. It helps me notice the world around me more acutely, and what a delight that is.
It’s from Wendell Berry’s “Wild Geese.”
I’ve adapted it with two differing ending stanzas:
Up early on a Thursday morning,
year over. I taste coffee
and wheat bread with wild jam
from summer’s end. In time’s maze
over the yearly ledger, we name names,
that went out from here, names
that are losses. I watch
a pine cone fall, full of trees,
full of promise,
potential, down in their marrow.
Squirrels appear in the trees,
climb, and the sky brightens. Ritual,
as in faith or wisdom, holds
them to their way, care,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And I pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
Girls appear at breakfast,
pass the butter, and my world encloses. Ritual,
as in faith or wisdom, holds
them through their days, grace,
in the ancient faith: what they need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
Stepping Back 