A friend and I each pick a ‘word of the year’ every December, debating back and forth whether it is just idealistic, truly guiding or just a time waste. I get them engraved on a circle of metal from an inexpensive instagram company and he often wears his on twine around his wrist while I hang mine off a bracelet. By March the discs are regulated to desks or dresser tops to remind us: words like persistence, faith, embrace, believe.

I am flummoxed what to chose for 2027. Where to go with my writing, — who wants to read more words — what will happen to the climate, the rising costs crippling my adult children raising families, the conundrum of real and fake media. It is impossible to separate good information from evil, to know where and when to be most helpful, to stay positive on the page. I am even suspect of a mystery series I am reading, not preventing me from reading but hedging my enthusiasm, as DCI Warlow traverses Wales with his trusty hound and I squint my eyes hoping to trap AI at work between the pages.

Should my word be ‘skepticism?’ Is one word enough?

I am in the Pacific Northwest for a few weeks, soaking in readings, fall colors, cold nights and books. The rain races across the horizon a couple of times a day but we don’t melt. I walk amongst mallards feeding on salt marsh tidbits, seals in the sea gorging on salmon, looking for the Kingfisher and meeting with friends for coffee and meals, walks and talks. Today I caught up with a woman who spent the month of August sailing to the San Juan Islands but when telling me the story she first described hesitation on the day they were supposed to depart; boat ready, supplies laid in, sails raised but a storm howling across Puget Sound. At the dock she questioned the plan. A man passed her and said “you just have to push off.”

I love when words catch me like a fish hook, in deep and hard to release.

In 2027 my disc will read just push off . Three words (Sorry, Bryan) but one big message to me for the year ahead: keep writing, put that book together, make things happen despite. I will be a grandmother for the second time, a writer for the 14th year, a woman who is watching for the fake, the real and the ready.

Thanks for reading.