“If you had to pick one word for the New Year. . .

. . . what would it be?” a friend said. I was at a small gathering over wine and nibblies, five of us who are neighbours. “I don’t mean a resolution, more like something you’d work on.”

“Hah, patience,” our host said immediately.

 His wife laughed. “Yup, patience sounds like a good one for you.”

 Christmas tree lights reflected in the windows; classical music played in the background. The white wine was from our local vineyard on Pender Island, several years old and very good. How magic was this, to have neighbours who were also friends.

 We went around the circle. Resilence, silence and purpose were other words. It was fascinating to listen to why my friends had picked those words. This was a neat idea; none of us was swearing to do better about something or other, or lose thirty pounds, each person identified an area of discomfort in their lives and looked at it clear-eyed. I felt such affection for everyone, their honesty in responding, the kindnesses in their lives that I knew about, and their struggles.

 The word that popped into mind for me was buoyancy. I felt sheepish about this, as if a larger, more noble truth was out there and it had somehow eluded me. However, buoyancy had presented itself, so I thought I might as well work with it.

 The past twelve months have been tough ones for me. Between a massive tooth infection which took a long time to be diagnosed, stepping on a rusty spike that led to several days in hospital to treat the infection and some ongoing kidney issues, getting things done has been a challenge. In an ideal life, I would do everything with some measure of joy and grace: walk the dog, write, work in my garden, cook, run my small cottage rental business. Hence buoyancy arriving as a needed quality.

  In the context of an ocean, “buoyant” means stuff floats. We have navigation buoys, PFDs, personal floatation devices that keep the wearer buoyant if s/he falls overboard. If a stick I throw for my dog sinks in the water after I’ve thrown it, it’s because the stick’s waterlogged and has lost its buoyancy.

  I’m amused at the idea of myself bobbing gently in the waves, up and down, one of those high visibility floats that commercial fishers call “Scotchman” and use as bumpers to keep their boats from getting dinged. A Scotchman is teardrop shaped, red on the bottom, with the top part, with the hole for the rope, navy blue. Yachting types use cylindrical white or blue bumpers for the same purpose.

Look at all of us, still floating. In the last year, we and the world have survived COVID, friends dying, people we love getting scary diagnoses, anxiety, isolation and loneliness. Now we’re trying to re-establish ourselves as social beings.

The book I wrote for my husband, Orchid Heart Elegies, came out in November. The graphics below come from a postcard McGill-Queen’s Press sent me. The Press have done an outstanding job. The book is a buoyancy for me; it holds me up. One of my editors who’d had a major death in her life, actually thanked me and said, “You put into words what I couldn’t.” I had to blink back tears when I read her email. Maybe the elegies can buoy others in a time of loss; I dearly hope so.

 If you had to pick one word to consider at this beginning part of the year, what would yours be? I’d love to hear from you.

For the wonderful friends and supporters on my email list, I will be sending out emails and then displaying the posts/pieces on magaicmonday.substack.com from now on. Substack is an area for writers’ newsletters. In future, you’ll hear from me every two weeks. Anyone who previously signed up via my website doesn’t need to re-subscribe. Anyone else, who is visiting and wants to hang out on a more regular basis, please click the button and then at the bottom where it says, “No pledge.”

I inserted a number of posts to make my Substack rich and full; you will finds lots of writing you haven’t read before. Bookmark it to find it easily again.