Every New Year my sister and I make two lists: “What I Got Out of Last Year” and Goals for This Year. For instance, last year, Emily wrote “Goal: Increase physical phitness” next to which I scrawled “Teach Emily how to spell.” (She’s 32.)
We also play the last-year-at-this-time game.
A year ago right now: Lived in Minnesota. Just finished semester 1 of grad school.
Two years ago: Living in Oregon. House-sat a big, drafty, scary house with weirdly slanty floors. My best Australian friend just died. I was pretty much on a gin-for-dinner diet for about a week.
Three years ago: Lived in Australia. Taught friends how to make snow angels in the sand at the beach. Swam daily. Drank fruity drinks in the hammock strung up between an orange tree and a fig tree in the back yard.
Four years ago: Worked at a winery. On vacation high up in the Cascade mountains. Friends had a bonfire in their yard so huge that it practically lit the sky on fire. With a running leap, we all sledded down their hilly, remote street.
Five years ago: I just moved to Portland, Oregon, and was working my first job out of college and hated it. Lived in a shared house with a crazy model-turned-Buddhist and a psychotic 45 year-old waitress.
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