Well, another year has come and gone.  I am envisioning great things in 2011, though that might just be my husband’s homemade wine talking.

I suppose I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, so instead I’m going to take a look back.  Here are some of my favorite moments from 2010.

January – I was photographed for Ladies Home Journal magazine and my son’s poor hearing led to, yet another, shameless statement.

February – I asked my first Question of the Day.

March – I wrote the post that would later be honored at the BlogHer Voices of the Year Gala and Art Auction curated by Kirtsy.

April – I poured my heart out while talking about my son’s struggles and I sneaked into my neighbor’s garden to steal some…pictures.

May – Ah…spring!  May brought about one of my favorite blog posts ever, which was Question of the Day II.  This.  Is.  My.  Life.

June –  I wrote a letter to my Grandma and celebrated my birthday.  If you call this celebrating.

July – This is when the heat started getting to me.  And to people’s crotches.

August – Sigh.  August.  You were so beautiful.  Which is probably why I focused on inspiration and on gifts you don’t get in boxes. 

September – Things stopped getting so serious when I shared my post-surgery, Dilaudid tweets.

October – I posted Question of the Day V.  I suffer, so you don’t have to.

November – I wrote about my old dog, Blue.  I don’t think she’s long for this world.

December – I got the job of my dreams.

May you all have a safe and happy New Year!  Thank you for stopping by.  I appreciate each and every one of you!

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I didn’t even realize it at the time, but my last blog post was my 500th. I had another post prepared for today, but as I logged in to type it, I saw the big 5-0-0 was hit a few days ago.

Five hundred posts and over three years of my life spent here at my home away from home. Momo Fali’s isn’t just a blog for me; it has been my journey through time. Even if most of that time was spent as an insomniac in an Ambien-induced haze.

You might think that I would be looking forward to my 500th post. Anticipating it, planning it and crafting each word carefully. Umm…nope. I haven’t even planned dinner lately.

As I have come to realize, anticipating and planning don’t necessarily mean that things will turn out the way you intended. I didn’t anticipate having two premature kids. I didn’t plan for a child with health and behavioral problems. My husband and I didn’t craft our (legitimate) careers in the mortgage industry, only to have the housing market come crashing down around us.

I know I’m not alone. Life throws curve balls at everyone and, sometimes, you just get blind-sided by a hit that you never even saw coming.

When my son was an infant, things were such a struggle that I continuously told myself, “Don’t take it day to day, or hour to hour…just take it minute to minute”. I knew I could do anything for a minute, so I taught myself to function for 60 seconds at a time.

This is probably why I didn’t see my 500th post coming. I have learned not to look too far ahead because what appears isn’t usually painted like the picture in my head. As a matter of fact, I try to imagine the worst so that I end up pleasantly surprised. That’s right. The worst. I can paint some seriously ugly pictures up in here.

This doesn’t mean that I am negative, just anxiety-ridden. I am a worrier. I am helped by medication, but I am still the woman who goes to therapy with her son and has the psychologist spend a quarter of the allotted time discussing my cuticle picking.

Given the course of my life, filled with twists and turns and sinkholes, I think it’s fitting that I am, instead, celebrating my 501st post.

In my case, it is truly something to celebrate when there was no fretting involved whatsoever.

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Dear Gram,

Although you have been gone for almost twelve years, I think about you every day. I really miss you.

I miss the way you closed your eyes and threw your head back when you laughed. I do that too.

I miss how you welcomed the chaos that was a house full of grandchildren. I miss the taste of your spaghetti sauce and the way you would roll out and cut your own noodles.

I marvel at how you cooked huge, Sunday suppers in that tiny kitchen, with no counter space, no air conditioning and no dishwasher. I can barely get a meal made for four.

I miss you yelling at me and my cousins to get out of the trees before we break our necks, to quit jumping around in a house with old wiring because we might start a fire and I miss you giving us a grocery list and sending us on our way. We took so long to get back from the store because we stopped to pick mulberries along the way. I suppose you always knew that when we came back with stained fingers.

I loved how you would say, “Everyone needs to be quiet because my story is coming on!” and within five minutes of As the World Turns starting you would be sound asleep. I miss you glaring at us in church when we had the giggles.

I miss you letting us go through your makeup drawer and use your little, Avon lipstick samples. I miss the smell of the roses in your back yard. I miss playing kickball and using your azalea bush as home plate.

I miss watching you take care of Kevin with strength and grace. I am still amazed at the way you would wrap your arms around his chest and “walk” him from room to room. It was the closest thing he had to doing it on his own.

I hate that I was pregnant with my daughter when you died. I wish she had known you. I can’t think of a better role-model, mentor, relative or human being than you. I am so proud to be your grand-daughter.

I know it was a gift to have you around as long as we did, but that doesn’t mean I will ever stop wishing that you were still here.

Love,

Diane

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Dear Mr. Cole,

I have thought about writing this letter so many times. Hundreds of times, in fact. However, something always comes up. Life got in the way of me doing something I should have done 20 years ago.

It is long past time that I thanked you for being a great teacher. It is hard to believe it has been more than two decades since I was a junior in high school and sat in your American Studies class.

My mom and step-father has just gotten divorced, I was working long hours after school and staying up late to do homework. My life was in turmoil and by the time I sat down in your class in the late afternoon, I was exhausted. I remember falling asleep at my desk almost every day. I was struggling.

My other teachers didn’t notice; or didn’t care to. You did. One day, you returned one of my papers with a hand-written note…I know you’re going through a rough time, but college is not that far away and you need to start thinking about your future. I know you comprehend what I’m saying. You’re smart and you write well. Don’t blow it.

Knowing that someone cared and that someone believed in me, at that point in time, was life-altering; possibly life-saving. Thank you for that. I knew that if I really needed to reach out to someone, you would be there.

Thank you for your knowledge and your kindness. Thank you for teaching me the beauty of the written word, for sharing your faith and for reaching out to a slacking student.

Thank you for being the best teacher I ever had.

Sincerely,

Diane

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