December 31 means a great deal to me.

It’s the last day of the year, of course. However, it’s also my mother’s birthday and the day I lost my right eye in a freak accident.

My accident isn’t something I think about daily. I was only eight years old. When I do think about it, I only think of fleeting things like getting the wind knocked out of me, being carried to my back door, the stitches, and staying in a hospital for a bit.

I don’t think about blindness, mostly because I can see just fine out of my left.

It was a football accident, so my chance of ever playing football in high school was pretty much over. Because I lost depth perception, playing baseball was out of the question, especially when they started throwing curveballs. I found other interests and other sports.

Blindness in my right eye probably restricted my life in a few minor ways, but it wasn’t that big of a deal in reality. I certainly never allowed it to define my life. On the other hand, my mother certainly shaped me for the better.

She was of the stay-at-home variety, and I saw my Mom every day after school. She grew up as a latch-key kid, but I did not. She never wanted that for her children and didn’t go into the workforce until both of her kids were essentially out of the house.

When she married my father, she could hardly boil water. We would nearly always come down to eat at the dinner table as a family. Dinner time was family time. Over the decades, cooking became a passion, and she still loves to experiment and try new recipes.

I learned most from my mother that family is the most important thing. Your family is the one to rely on when you need help. When confronted with obstacles or realized successes, my family was there.

As I reflect on the lessons taught by accidents and mothers, my goal for 2022 is to keep these ideas alive in me, not as some resolution, but as a steadfast core belief in myself.

Hello, January 1, 2022, and goodbye to 2021. Goodbye to a year of doubt and fear. Goodbye to the need to be like others or worry about how others view me. Just be me. I may be overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what I want to accomplish, but I can’t be paralyzed by it. I can’t be fearful.

It’s hello to a restored sense of family. I will embrace what I have right in front of me and worry less about what I think I want or desire. This is the year I find my voice and quit letting the successes of others drive me or attempt to mimic their unique achievements. I’m the star of my own life, and I need to start acting like it.

The best motivator for me is me. Do better than before. Get better. Find the next level and keep at it, in my writing, with my family, and in how I approach this precious thing called life.

The adventure is just beginning.