I wanted to write something profound at the end of this momentous year.

Something thought provoking and deep.

Something that tied 2020 up in a neat little bow and filed it away.

But some years are not so neatly tucked away, in drawers or memory; organized and preserved in time capsules full of concert tickets, snapshots, and memories made.

Some years keep us the same. Preserved and untouched.

Just another year.

While others are etched in the soul and felt in the bones.

Those years we carry with us long after the calendar changes, a weight we take on for having survived.

We are stripped down, opened wide, laid bare.

We are called on to evolve and become something bigger than ourselves.

We are asked to make choices, forced to grow, and as the ball (or shrimp) drops on years such as these, we are called on to rise.