Dear 2016,

You sucked.

You took legends. More than your fair share.

You brought out the worst in our political process.

You brought out the worst in our people.

You took my grandmother.

You took other beauty from me, too.

I spent most of yesterday in the ER, after a freak accident in the ocean that’s never happened in my 35 years of surfing. I’m ok, but was very close to not being ok. And I’m blaming it on you.

I tend to see the glass as somewhere between half-full and overflowing, but your glass was drained even before you took Bowie. So this morning I threw it against the wall of the horse barn, and right now I’m using rocks of hope and promise to grind the shards into dust, with all the strength I have.

I’m going to offer you to the sky.

And hope the wind of 2017 carries you into a black hole, where Princess Leia is sitting on the edge to watch you disappear into nothing.

I guess I just wanted to give you some sort of linguistic middle finger.

I gotta get back to work.

I can feel that wind starting to blow.