What's in a Decade?

It is natural while standing on the precipice of a new decade to gaze back upon the past one—whether we wish to or not.

This decade began with the death of my sister. Like any major life event, the gravitational waves from that incident completely altered my trajectory in ways that continue to affect my orbit today.

In the past ten years, I have met an entirely new cast of characters in my personal story. I have re-acquainted myself with my childhood love of the written word. I have moved more times than I can remember; in fact, I spent the holidays in a tent just a few winters ago because I couldn’t afford anywhere else to live. (Pro Tip: Heavy plastic sheeting helps keep tents warm during cold nights.) While I haven’t become a success by any “traditional” metric, I am quite wealthy by virtue of my collection of experiences, family, and friends. (That means you. Awww.)

The theme of this past decade was not “stability.” It was “transition.” I’ve failed, I’ve succeeded, I’ve learned, I’ve failed again, I've made a complete ass of myself on multiple documented occasions…and after decades of relationship mishaps, I found love. (Technically, it found me.) All the while, I was constantly endeavoring to figure out just who I am and my ultimate life purpose. After many long, arduous years of research, I can officially report: I still have no freakin’ idea. Maybe I'll adopt another cat.

In any event, expect more wacky Topher tomfoolery in the coming decade, and definitely more fedora pictures.

The 2010 Topher model looked very sleek and snazzy.

The modern Topher has completed the facial hair accessory, but the fedora remains spot-on.

la Década de los Muertos

I took this picture back in 2011: my first Día de los Muertos celebration. Then, I was just starting my journey of getting to know myself, symbolized by my transition from "Chris" to "Topher." My sister died a year prior, and my cousin passed a year before that. (My aunt passed around this time as well.) My sister's death in particular directly inspired my current writing trajectory, so in a strange way, I'm grateful for that gift—I just regret the cost.

As I look back on my personal journey over the last few years, it is amazing how much the dead have influenced how I've lived. That is why I cherish this time of year in particular. Those of you who read "Three Short Ghost Stories" discovered they were written with love in mind...not fear. (Well, the hotel might have been one minor exception, but it can be argued that those ghosts were simply being eternally hospitable, right?)

In fact, I try to do everything now with love in mind, first and foremost. In the end, it is all that will matter. 

Happy Day of the Dead, for all of you, no matter which side of the veil you inhabit.