End of the Year Reflection

Tomorrow is Christmas, and with it comes the quiet closing of another year. One more chapter filed away in the archives of our personal history. Was it good? Was it bad? The truth is, most years are a mix of both — stitched together from ordinary days, a few shining moments, and the occasional disaster we’d rather forget.

Luck plays its part. I’ve had years where dumb luck carried me further than any plan I could have drawn up. A chance meeting, a job I stumbled into, even a water filter that finally cooperated — luck shows up in small ways and big ones. You can’t control it, but you can appreciate it when it lands in your lap.

Resilience

Resilience is what fills the gaps when luck doesn’t show. Life throws curveballs — sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes straight at your knees. Resilience is the quiet decision to stand back up, to keep moving, to not let the bad days define the whole year. It’s not glamorous, but it’s what keeps us in the game.

Gratitude

Gratitude is the lens that makes it all bearable. Without it, the grind feels endless. With it, even the smallest victories — a laugh with a friend, a meal shared, a problem solved — become treasures. Gratitude turns “just another day” into something worth remembering.

Perspective

And perspective? That’s the wisdom that comes with time. The bad days weren’t as catastrophic as they felt in the moment. The good days weren’t as permanent as we wished. Perspective reminds us that life is lived in the middle — in the ordinary rhythm of work, bills, laughter, and frustration. It tells us not to measure a year by its extremes, but by how we carried ourselves through it.

Reflections

This feels fitting for anyone experiencing something for the first time after a big life change. At the time, it may seem pretty harmless, but it struck me more than I expected.

This is my first Christmas since retiring. That’s a good thing—after 40+ years, I finally hung up my work boots (or keyboard, depending on the day). It speaks to resilience: working so long and so hard. It speaks to gratitude: I was fortunate to be employed in only three jobs over four decades, each one special in its own way. And it speaks to perspective: the finality of a career is both sobering and freeing.

But retirement also brings what people call “firsts.” This week, I found myself thinking about the last group of people I worked with—some for over 10 years. They became a kind of pseudo-family, or at least my “work family.” As Christmas approaches, I realize how much I enjoyed those people, and how fun December always was.

There were small gatherings almost every week. Food seemed to magically appear every day—someone always brought in a dish they were proud of, someone else showed up with Christmas cookies, and sometimes we all chipped in for a big lunch. It was a cheerful slice of the year that slowed things down and reminded you how lucky you were: healthy, employed, surrounded by people you could share not just work, but laughter, meals, and moments with.

This year, my first Christmas without that environment, feels a little like a small loss. Not tragic, not overwhelming—just the quiet absence of something that once made the season sparkle.

Still, I suppose that’s the trade-off. No more office cookie trays, but also no more office email chains. And honestly, I’ll take that deal.

Closing Thought

So as another year winds down, I don’t ask whether it was good or bad. I ask: did I endure with resilience, notice the luck when it came, practice gratitude, and keep perspective? If I did, then the year was enough. And maybe that’s the only measure that matters. Take something from every year, a learning moment a memory. Yesterday for me was never Shhh your Brazilian wife while changing a water filter, especially when she is making the Christmas desserts.