An Open Letter to 2020 — Glitter for Breakfast

Several years ago, I began a tradition of writing myself a letter on New Year’s Eve. I reflect on what I achieved, where I fell short, exciting and hard things that occurred, and delve into the hopes and dreams I have for myself in the year to come. This year, in addition to the forthcoming letter to myself, I decided to write a letter to 2020.

Dear 2020,

You started with incredible promise. I vividly remember being at 305’s 8th Street Studio with my friend Kayla, ringing in the new year in what might have been one of my best NYE’s to-date. The energy was positive, welcoming, empowering- I truly felt like anything was possible. Two months later, everything changed.

Part of me wants to forget you, and yet, I never want to forget (and I’m not sure that I can). Aside from the fact that come January 1, 2021 our day-to-day lives, or lack thereof, will remain the same, the impact of all the events of 2020 will be felt for years, if not decades to come. A global pandemic, the fight for racial justice, a historic election, and countless other items which on their own would make for an eventful year all came to pass during 2020. You opened my eyes, my mind, and my heart in ways both terrifying and transformational, and often both. Because of you, I had conversation I’d never had before, found parts of myself I had never explored, and came to learn so much about myself and those in my life. You challenged every part of my existence.

If given the choice, I don’t know if I would live through you again. That said, discomfort is never easy or enjoyable, perhaps we could have spaced this out some; one major event per year or months-long interludes between each. Yet, with the onslaught has come resilience and a reprioritization of how I spend my time and who I spend it with. I would not trade the time with my parents, the conversations I had with friends, or the small moments of joy and peace of nature for anything. You pushed me to say yes to scary things, to take big leaps and honor my inner-most dreams. I’ve always been told that life is short but it wasn’t until you that I truly internalized it.

You weren’t only hard, life-affirming and altering moments, there were many light-hearted times as well. You blessed my area with a gorgeous summer which made for many happy days by the pool; new music, movies, and television came to my rescue; and delicious food was discovered and eaten. You brought to light small details, the joy of new sheets, the thrill of getting close to a bird, the warmth of a smile (or smile in the eyes) of strangers. You taught me to never take anything for granted, no matter how mundane it might seem.

Thank you 2020. You created relationships, strengthened existing ones, and were the catalyst I needed to let the toxic ones go. You changed me forever and for the better. I hope 2021 and all the years that I may be lucky enough to see after are nothing like you, but I am glad that I got to know you and learn from you.

Warm regards and good riddance,

Leah

Here’s to more dining together and hopefully no more masks by this time next year.