She never before bothered with New Year’s resolutions. Frankly, the notion had always struck her as silly, and rarely did they stick. Not to mention that resolutions meant that you had hope for a better year ahead. For too long, that hadn’t been the case for her. But this year things were different.
She spent January 1 moving into her new place. The actual moving in part didn’t take long, as her belongings were meager. That can happen when you make a hasty exit, at least in her case it did. But no matter. They’re just things and they can be replaced. So here she was, watching the sun set on the first day of a new year in a new living space, and for the first time she realized that there was hope. Not just for a better year, but for a better life. Maybe for the first time, her making some New Year’s resolutions wouldn’t be a silly waste of time. Sitting in her empty living room, sipping red wine straight from the bottle, a flattened pillow her only cushion from the hard wood floor, she made up her mind to do just that—make resolutions.
She put down the wine bottle and went to the kitchen counter for her purse. Luckily, there was a pen in there and a receipt from a convenience store where she stopped for gas and snacks only a few hours ago. It would have to do until she could get a proper notebook. On the back of the receipt, she wrote at the top, “Things To Do In The New Year.” Speaking of proper notebooks, that would be number one.
1) buy a fancy leather bound journal and write in it every day
2) find a job-one I can be proud of
3) paint walls a fun color
4) dye my hair red
5) buy books and actually read them
6) once settled in apartment, adopt a shelter dog
7) get a tattoo
8) learn conversational Italian
9) plan dream trip to Italy
10) meet new people
11) do at least one fun new activity each month
12) buy whole new wardrobe
13) pick out new name- this is of the utmost importance!!!
She underlined that last one three times and stopped writing because she ran out of room on the receipt. Satisfied with her list for now, she walked back to the sad little pillow on the floor. She grabbed the wine bottle and took a sip.
Since she didn’t have any other paper to write a new list, she made one out loud, letting it float around her empty new apartment. “Alyssa. Anna. Bailey. Becca. Catherine. Celina…”
I have a goal to write a flash fiction piece for each month of 2017. This is January’s.