It's sacrilege, I'm sure, to leave Pasadena at Tournament of Roses time. But John and I aren't religious so we skipped town and went to the beach for a couple of days. (If you'd like to see hometown Rose Parade posts, check out West Coast Grrlie Blather or East of Allen.)
So. Tomorrow's Monday. Back to the grind. Back to normal.
But not really.
There's change coming. The year feels new. We're putting one foot in front of the other, not knowing what the ground looks like until our foot lands on it. We can't see where we're going until we get there. It's scary.
Change is the one thing we can count on. It's necessary. Things do not stay the same, they never have. We know change is good, but it can be overwhelming.
This is probably why we cling to beloved traditions like Christmas trees and the Rose Parade. It's why our garages fill up with old relics that never get used or even looked at. It's why we stick to routine, it anchors us.
It's like sleeping in your own bed after you've been away for a few days. It may not be the greatest bed. The pillow may be lumpy. But it's what you're used to, and that's a comfort.