Is your life like a pair of stilettos one size too small?

How does the pit of your stomach feel on a Sunday night?

The music blasted, the disco lights flashed, and I channeled my inner Shakira.

People make three key mistakes when they communicate.

This extra sunlight is good for my soul.

I am in love! It hit me like a ton of bricks this weekend.  Remember what it felt like when you first fell in love? Every song on the radio was YOUR song. The littlest thing put a wide smile on your face. You bounced a little as you walked and the small stuff? No sweat! I love a love story. This whole Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce matchup has me rooting for a live proposal at the SuperBowl. I wept through The Golden Bachelor (and yes, I applied for the next season.) Give me a sappy Hallmark movie, and I puddle. But these years since Mark's transition have been an exercise in learning to be alone with myself. Truth be told, I kicked and screamed and worked every angle to fast forward through this chapter. Bumble, Hinge, J-Date, The League, and even Tinder can attest to my razor sharp focus on getting to what I thought would be the good part; my "happily ever after." Nope. Met some nice people. Some creeps. And then...crickets. Sigh. Perhaps I waved a spiritual white flag without realizing it. It wasn't like I decided to surrender. I just got busy doing stuff that made me happy. Going to the gym everyday. Wildly dancing with new friends. Being alcohol-free and still slaying on karaoke night. Petting puppy dogs and talking to random babies. Interviewing beautiful souls for my podcast . Savoring a sauna and clean sheets on the bed. Instead of waiting for someone to ask me, I took myself on dates. Like this weekend! Th I chose the scenic route on my way home from a jaunt to LA to see Chaka Khan in concert (and yes, I belted "I'm Every Woman" as if I were the performer). Around a bend, this greeted me:

It's a time for resolutions, not regrets.

You might think, "Of course, Brenda. Most people celebrating Christmas get a tree!" And you would be correct. But for me, there was no tree in 2021. Or 2022. Now 2020? THAT was a completely different story. Santa himself would have loved the three fully decorated trees that adorned the house Mark and I shared. He would strategically position Rudolph, Clarisse, The Abominable Snowman, Hermie ("I want to be a dentist"), and Yukon Cornelius in our living room. He'd graciously suffer through endless Hallmark Channel Christmas movies, and our kitchen smelled like butter and cinnamon for at least a month.

"What is the meaning of all this?" I cried out, for the first time in a while wondering if Anyone was listening.