This year, we’ve all had a lot of plans canceled — either because we canceled them ourselves or they were canceled for us. In the great scheme of things, whether or not an event happens is certainly secondary to a pandemic; if anything, the wise thing to do is to not gather together. Not that the wise thing is always the easy thing.

Like everyone else who canceled their Thanksgiving plans, I missed my family and friends. We had an invite to visit our daughter and her family; we haven’t seen them in nearly a year, and that’s a long time, considering our grandson just turned two years old. The day after Thanksgiving has always been our Friendsgiving, where we have gathered with a large group and enjoyed the day. Christmas and New Year’s, too, will be spent on a smaller scale with just my husband and I, as well as my mother.

Some might think we’re absolutely crazy for doing it, but we went ahead with plans to reserve next year’s summer vacation. We’ll be spending part of June in the Dominican Republic. While I don’t want to invite the possibility that it might be canceled, since so much has been canceled since last March, I know full well that it may happen. Or our circumstances personally, and/or because of the pandemic, may prevent going.

But this is about hope. It’s about finding something to look forward to. About dreaming, planning, and looking toward happier times, which we all need in our lives. Even if those plans are eventually canceled, I can spend cold winter days thinking about warm white sand beaches and turquoise water. The anticipation of ocean breezes, carefree walks on the sand, sultry nights spent in a tropical resort.

I would be disappointed if that doesn’t happen, but that disappointment doesn’t erase the hopes and lightness of being I feel in the interim.

In the same way, I choose to always look forward as I recreate myself from the ground up. Had I known years ago that I would still be on this journey over seven years later, I might never have started, but something within me had just the slightest bit of hope that just maybe things would work out. And so, every step I’ve taken, I’ve moved forward with the hope that I would eventually see the change I dreamed of for so long. My heart ached to be where I stand at this moment, and so I have good reason to believe that keeping hope alive helps me create the things I believe will happen.

I am an active participant, now, instead of merely dreaming of a day when I could move with ease, defy the odds, and yeah, occasionally wear the cute clothes. And I choose to be an active participant in keeping hope alive for the days to come; not just that each day will get better, or that this pandemic will finally become a footnote in our collective history, but that I am invested in everything that keeps me moving forward.

I am committed to never returning to the world I knew; it’s up to me to create a new one.