In a Normal Year (Whatever That Means)

In a normal year, Zach and I would be spending our January (and, let's face it, early February) evenings writing out the New Year's cards we'd spent weeks creating.

We love doing this—coming up with a cool concept and design, figuring out the copy, and then writing personalized little notes to the friends and family we wish we saw more often.

Last year, we put together a great card but ended up sending out only a fraction of our usual number—a compromise we had to make in the face of all of the circumstances that were extenuating at the time.

This year, we thought we'd be able to return to our usual practice and had even sketched out an idea for the card.

But soon we realized that we just couldn't manage it, no matter how attached we are to the tradition. Time and money and energy—especially energy—are in short supply, and we've really got to ration.

We've made our peace with it, as we have with so much else of late. But tonight I couldn't help but think of the cards I had hoped to be writing this month.

Instead of jotting messages of good cheer, I've been writing thank-you notes—long-overdue thank-you notes—for all of the kindnesses we received following my dad's death.

They have been easier to write than I had expected, and I am filled with renewed gratitude for all the love and support that has come our way. I've tried to convey that to each person as best I can.

Nearly all of these notes will go to friends and relatives who would otherwise have received our New Year's greeting. Fortunately, they have small envelopes, and I don't expect that anyone will mistake them for one of our exuberant holiday missives, the way I mistook condolence cards for seasonal greetings a month or so ago.

I am reluctant to tempt fate, but I do hope our New Year's cards will be back in 2009.

And that our exuberance returns long before that.