By Charlene Trino<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The disco ball rotates over the dance floor, throwing shards of light around the room like scattered memories of the year. I’m standing under it at my company’s holiday bash, holding a champagne flute, observing how each small mirror grabs and bounces back a different instant, just as this past year has bounced back so many versions of who I’ve turned into.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
December always feels to me like I’m inside a snow globe. Everything glitters with promise, yet also seems frozen in time. This year, as I watch the disco ball spread its enchantment over faces I know, it hits me how well it shows what it’s like to be a woman going through another year of life. We have many sides, each one mirroring a different part: mom, daughter, worker, buddy, visionary, fighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few days ago, I dug out my January journal, wanting to see what I’d written about my goals for the year. “Be brave,” I had scribbled in purple ink. “Take up space. Shine.” As I read those words now, I can’t stop smiling at how spot-on they turned out to be. This year, I mustered the courage to ask for that promotion (and landed it), joined salsa classes even though I’m clumsy, and ended a friendship that had been holding me back for way too long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The disco ball hanging above is a leftover from the 1970s, according to what the building manager told me before. Its reflective panels aren’t perfect\u2014some have cracks, others have gone cloudy over time\u2014but it still works its magic. Isn’t that just like us women? We turn up with our flaws, our hard-earned scars, our stories written in smile lines and frown marks, and somehow, we still manage to shine light wherever we end up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I think about my grandmother’s old compact mirror, which came to me this year after she passed away. When I open it, I feel like I’m looking into years of reflection\u2014not just of faces, but of hopes, letdowns, and little daily wins. She used to tell me that mirrors don’t lie, but they don’t show everything either. “They can’t reveal your kindness,” she’d say, “or how you brighten up a room just by being you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This December, as we get ready to end another year, I’ve asked the women in my life what they see when they look back at their year. My best friend notices resilience when she reflects\u2014she handled a divorce with grace I didn’t think was possible. My sister sees how much she’s grown\u2014she started school again at 45 and got top marks on every test. My daughter, back from her first term at college, sees a mix of independence and missing home, strength woven together with feeling vulnerable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The disco ball keeps turning, and I see how the light shines on different people at various times. At times we glow; at times we’re dark. Both matter. Both look great. This year showed me that having many sides isn’t about looking flawless from every view\u2014it’s about accepting every part of who we are, flaws and all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the clock ticks toward another year’s end, I’ve begun a new custom. Rather than making promises about who I should turn into, I pen notes of gratitude to who I’ve been. I appreciate the me who voiced her thoughts in that meeting. I’m grateful to myself who shed tears in the car after a tough day but still managed to cook dinner at home. I thank the woman who declined when it was important and agreed when it frightened her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The music shifts, and in an instant, everyone floods the dance floor, enveloped by the mirrorball’s enchantment. We all twirl, bouncing light off one another, forming a pattern of collective moments. This is December’s gift to us\u2014a chance to view ourselves not as lone, separate reflectors, but as pieces of a dazzling, sparkling whole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Come tomorrow, I’ll store the party dress and go back to my usual routine. But tonight, beneath this vintage mirrorball, I embody my true self: intricate, multi-dimensional, and downright magical.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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