I undo my shoe laces.

I have a single resolution this year. Just that one. I will endeavour to complete this task regardless. I won’t avoid it when I’m tired or anxious. When I’m stressed or angry. I will always do it. I can’t not, really. It takes seconds. If I can’t do this then I can’t do anything. But in my head I will remember the converse. I I can do this, I can do anything. So I do this thing so that I can do anything. I have a thousand more resolutions. I pick them up from the ground. I borrow them from friends and family who give them with love. I steal them from strangers whom I silently give thanks to. I do them until they become habit or until I let them fall because they didn’t work. They are not resolutions for the year but for-ever and ever or for just this moment. Both work. I have many, but one that matters.