My son finished his year before I did, perhaps for the first time in his life. My work traditionally goes slack at the holidays, and I have long arranged to simply work each year from start to finish, taking all vacation coming to me from the end of the year on back. First man out of the office in December, and I go until I'm done.

This year has been an odd one, and I worked one more week than I'd planned to, and thus the school year for my son finished one day before my work year. When I'd finished, I heard from my bride what my son had done the day before.

If you read here much at all, you know my son does not speak as most do; he communicates in ways you must attune yourself to hear. To help guide him, his schedule is commonly posted on a velcro board placed prominently in my home. Pictures are affixed to it each night, from top to bottom, that each day he might have clues about what he'll see first, and next, and next. Pictures of people he's scheduled to see - words like "doctor", "haircut", and "school".

The story came from his arrival home on his last day of his year: his first move, after discarding shoes and coat, was to walk to that board, rip from it the picture saying "school", and to shove that picture as deeply as possible into the basket where those pictures are kept. Perhaps it doesn't take much attunement, at that, to know how finished he felt about his year.

He has a kind of wisdom, and upon hearing that story, I resolved to take my cue from him.

With less unwinding time, reflection time, this year, I've simply stuffed things that need reflected and unwound down to the bottom of the basket for now, and have gone about the rituals of closing the year. Signing holiday cards as they're placed in front of me, taking no time to look at those arriving in return. Going all the usual places I go throughout the season, managing the logistics of it, seeing my dance card overfilled as I spin from one thing into the next perhaps more quickly than I'd like. I know I'm not feeling like I'm making the year really finish.

As I said, it's been an odd year. So many aspects I'm happy about, so many facets jagged enough to tear at my heart... so many ways I've grown, and outgrown, where I am and where I want to be. It's been so long since I've seen so little of the year I have ahead.

I suppose my usual end-of-year troubles - with wrapping up with neat bows, getting ribbons tied the way that does justice, arranging words in this best time for clauses - have been evident even here. I've not been shaking many words out of Frank lately.

I wish that wasn't true, that I could pull the story of me out somewhat more tidily, arrange what beauty I can find for you more readily. I know some few of you few who read me here, and each of you deserves whatever bouquets I can arrange in this place. I'm saddened that this seems to be gone for the moment.

I may as well simply say out loud I think I'm closed down here for a while, pending... whatever.

At least I've found for you a new way to give you the same old excuse.

Here's to the years that were and will be, and to all of us stumbling among them.

Cheers.