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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72"><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>New Year Resolve <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>1595 words<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>1977 loomed like a dark tunnel with no end. My small assortment of presents had been opened. Robbie wasn’t returning my phone calls. Mr. K’s family was celebrating New Year’s Eve at their lake cabin. I hadn’t been invited to anyone’s gathering. I phoned my sister New Year’s Day to lift my gloomy mood. Instead, her troubling news yanked me deeper into a black abyss. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Older by four years, Jean was working as a nurse at the children’s hospital in Denver. We shared a special bond albeit due to our night blindness and futile attempts to appease our argumentative parents.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“My daytime vision is declining but they don’t know why,” Jean informed me. “The other day, I ran a stop sign and almost hit another car. I didn’t see the sign. The car came from out of nowhere.” My sister’s words melted into sobs.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“Oh my God, you could have been killed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“You don’t have to tell me that, Claudia. Mom and Dad are already threatening to take my keys away. If I can’t drive, I can’t work.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I tried to reassure my sister. “The eye doctor probably just needs to tweak your prescription for driving glasses.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“If only. I’m being referred to a specialist, an ophthalmologist at the university medical center, for testing. I can’t even get an appointment for five months so I’ll just have to be extra careful for now. I hope I don’t collide with an instrument cart at work or, worse yet, dispense the wrong medicine and kill somebody.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“Now, you’re being overly dramatic,” Jean was always the sensitive one. She cried at the mention of a sad movie or song. She was the princess who couldn’t sleep on a pea. I was more like Lucy from the Charlie Brown comic strip, confident and commanding…at least on the outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“Mom and Dad are worried that the problem could be genetic since we’re both night blind. Have you noticed any difficulty with your vision driving during the day, Claudia?” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Pop! My cartoon bubble burst.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Had I? Was my own near-accident before Christmas due to blizzard conditions, or was my day time sight also failing?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“No, no...” I decided to keep my own close call secret from my sister for now.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>January promised nothing but cold and dark with one exception. Veronica phoned and we arranged to meet up the following weekend for another loop around Doe Lake on our cross country skis. The prospect of finding a friend bolstered my resolve. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Each Sunday that month, Veronica and I circled the lake, matching our pace halfway around while we jabbered, and racing the second half, being equally competitive. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Trekking and talking, I realized Veronica hid insecurities like me. Despite her polished appearance and worldwide travels, she told me she felt like an orphan. She quizzed me about mundane family affairs – dinner time, fighting with my parents, sneaking out with my boyfriend on a school night. She was as curious about my conventional upbringing as I was envious of her unpredictable adolescence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Veronica didn’t know her dad. I wanted out from under control of mine. Veronica’s famous mother had high hopes for her daughter’s modeling career. My mother had never worked outside the home and couldn’t conceive of her daughters pursuing a job before marriage. I was jealous of Veronica’s financial security, and she coveted my family traditions.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Our first outing, Veronica pronounced, “Last one to the parking lot picks up the lunch tab.” Veronica slipped past me on the final turn and slapped the hood of her car. “Let’s go to Vera’s. She’s got the freshest sandwiches and salads around.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Too slow to make an excuse, I agreed to Vera’s although my return to the lunch spot reminded me of Robbie. We were even seated at the same table. Like déjà vu, Vera’s son Pete approached with our menus.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“So, Veronica, you jealous? Your new friend was here with Robbie not long ago. Has he gotten bored with you already?” Pete’s words strangely echoed the confrontational attitude he had taken with Robbie.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“If it makes you feel better, Pete, I turned Robbie down, just like I turned you down. Now, bring us your mom’s daily lunch special, okay?” Veronica passed our menus over her shoulder to Pete without a glance. For the second time, I watched Pete retreat like a dog kicked to the curb.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The thing was, I was kind of touched. Unlike my best friend from high school who turned out to be far from loyal, Veronica seemed more interested in our conversation than competing for a man’s attention. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>After lunch, I tailgated Veronica’s Camaro to her modern town home. The two-story abode was furnished with an eclectic mix of antique furniture, glass and chrome shelving, macramé planters, and woven wall hangings. The small living room with an exposed brick fireplace was open to the dining area. A tall shelving unit displayed a variety of collectibles and separated a work nook without obstructing </span>light from a breezy<span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'> </span>window.<span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The galley kitchen had a built-in microwave and dishwasher. A stainless steel sink accented with a mirrored backsplash reflected unwashed pots and pans. Burnt orange Formica countertops were covered with crumbs. Veronica obviously took more care with her appearance than house cleaning. Somehow, that relaxed me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Veronica had baked pumpkin bread. While she prepared hot tea and fussed to clear a spot for us at the table, I nosed around. A tall wooden bookcase was jammed with a library of reading material. Mingled among classics like Steinbeck and Faulkner were feminist titles like Fear of Flying by Erica Jong and Descent of Woman by Elaine Morgan. To my delight, I discovered Veronica also had a copy of All the President’s Men by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“Oh, look!” Nearer to my heart, I fingered four hardback novels from The Borrowers fantasy series by Mary Norton, my most favorite escape as a child. The illustrated books told stories about the Clock family, tiny people who live secretly under the floor boards of a human family’s home. The Clocks "borrowed" small items from the big people to furnish their house and equip their adventures. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Prostrate on overstuffed floor pillows, Veronica and I perused her collection of record albums including Carol King, Fleetwood Mac, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Joni Mitchell, and Chick Corea. Sweet Baby-James Taylor cooed from her portable stereo. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>A stack of spiral bound notebooks stood Next to her record collection.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“Are these notes from your college classes, Ronni?” She had suggested I call her ‘Ronni’ at lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“It’s the first draft of my book, but it’s not ready for consumption yet. “<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>An avid reader and fellow writer, I quizzed Veronica about the plot structure for her fictionalized memoir. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“It’s about a young debutante whose future is predetermined by her obligation to run the family business, in opposition to the heroine’s personal dreams, of course.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“How does the story ends? I love a good mystery,” I teased.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“Let’s just say, the mother won’t be happy with the ending.” Veronica tossed her wavy hair and cackled loud enough to shake snow from a tree branch. I knew that from experience. Thankfully, the light fixture over our heads didn’t shatter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Between the tea and gut-wrenching laughter, I excused myself to pee. On my way to the upstairs bathroom, I peered into Veronica’s bedroom. A splash of blue, yellow, and orange flowers maxi size covered the quilted spread on her double bed. </span>Maya Angelou’s <span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>poetry was bookmarked on her night stand. A lemon scented candle on her vanity matched sunshiny bath and hand towels.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Looking in Ronnie’s mirror, I couldn’t help but compare my life to hers. She seemed to be living a dream. She was reading and writing and cooking and crafting. Her world was filled with light and music. She wasn’t putting her life on hold, waiting for a man to give her purpose. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style='mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:dotted windowtext 3.0pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in'><p class=MsoNormal style='border:none;padding:0in'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Begging off before sunset, I drove to my cold apartment. Jennifer Warren’s rendition of “Love Hurts” played on my car radio. Neither Ronnie nor I “belonged” in Doe Lake, Michigan, I reflected, but each of us had a destiny. Was my future predetermined by my family history? Worse, would my vision impairment prevent me from finding my own way? Veronica was living a dream while I was lost. Without knowing, my new friend was inspiring me to hope for a future with color, texture, and adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='border:none;padding:0in'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div><p class=MsoListParagraph style='margin-left:.75in;mso-add-space:auto'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'> ***<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Pete was pissed. Robbie could have any woman in town he wanted. Other local boys didn’t stand a chance. Still, the cop had hit on both of the new lookers. Robbie had set his hook before either woman could bat her mascaraed eyelashes. Now, the bitches were pals and turned off to townies. Pete had overheard the acid comments Veronica made to Claudia over lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>“See what I mean, Claudia? Don’t date the locals. They don’t mind their own business.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoListParagraphCxSpLast><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Well, whose business was it, anyway? Why did newcomers from the big city act like they owned the town, telling people how to run their lives? What did they know? Pete had been born and raised in Doe Lake, never to leave as far as he could make out. He helped his mom run the restaurant, and he worked weekend as a security guard at the furniture factory. One job didn’t pay enough for a guy to catch a woman’s eye. Two jobs meant a guy didn’t even have time to look. For 30 years, the only does Pete ever snared were during hunting season.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:106%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'># # #<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>