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Miranda Priestly hates New Year’s Eve, believing the day is merely an excuse for other people to drink too much, behave badly, and start the following year with poorly planned strategies for self-improvement. A resolution is a decision either to do or not do something and can be made at any time of the year. One either wants to change or not, and the notion that a new year will be a magical turning point for anyone is ridiculous.
That said, she feels no guilt about filling the January issue with aspirational articles. After all, the nature of human beings is to want more and as such, Runway will feature the requisite information about improving health and fitness, career advancement and financial independence. It’s hardly her fault if most of their readers fail before the March edition hits the stands.
Working through the Book she finds little to displease her. She even finds herself humming with approval, an unusual state that lasts until she turns to the article about gratitude. Miranda purses her lips, raising her red pen in readiness, still annoyed she agreed to pander to such pop psychology nonsense. Only one person could convince her of its validity and seeing it now, her initial doubts are redoubled.
To her surprise, the article is truly compelling, highlighting that being grateful is easy until significant challenges arise. One can feel gratitude for their children, partner and health, but how does one react to serious adversity? When our children or partner disappoint us in a devastating way, do we still feel grateful? If confronted by a life-threatening illness, how does one maintain gratitude? Though a little too wordy and earnest, the writer has managed to convey what Miranda firmly believes - true gratitude is hard work.
Pen poised in the air, Miranda is distracted by footsteps echoing along the hardwood floors of the hallway. She shakes her head but is resigned to her fate. Removing the carpet from the townhouse has definitely reduced her allergies.
“Whatcha doing?”
“What I’m doing,” Miranda corrects, “is editing an article.” She peers over her reading glasses at Andrea, pursing her lips at the cup of tea being presented to her. “And yes, it’s that article.”
“It’s impressive, right?” Andrea asks, a pensive look on her face.
Miranda sniffs, not eager to concede her point. She takes the cup of tea, smiling despite herself. Ever since she was instructed to reduce her caffeine consumption, Andrea has ensured Miranda does just that. Though she still complains, it’s touching to have someone care about her health.
“At this point the article is adequate, bu-“
“Come on,” Andrea interrupts, hoisting herself up onto the desk. “Just admit you were wrong.”
Miranda clears her throat, placing the tea cup on her desk. “It still requires some editing,” she replies, striking a line through an entire sentence for emphasis.
“So, I should let you be?” Andrea asks, and Miranda is attentive enough to hear the thread of disappointment in her voice.
Looking up, she smiles at Andrea. “Not all all,” she says, pleased to see a responding smile. “But, perhaps you should sit on the sofa. It’ll be less distracting.”
Andrea shrugs and follows her suggestion, curling up on the sofa, sipping her tea. Somehow Miranda drags her eyes away from that appealing tableau and focuses on the last part of the article.
‘Gratitude is a virtue best exemplified by saints, but expected of mere mortals. Life brings all manner of challenges, both serious and small, and there’s no way of knowing which of them will make us question our faith. Faith in ourselves, in others, and if one is so inclined, a higher power. The practice of gratitude is to realise that whatever the hardship, we have a choice - the choice to persevere and appreciate what we have or give up and complain about the unfair hand we’ve been dealt.
Faced with the darkness that we all encounter in life, I choose perseverance. I choose appreciation. I choose gratitude.’
“Jesus,” Miranda mutters, dropping her pen on the desk and reaching for her cup of tea. While initially unaware of the author’s identity, she recognises her daughter’s mantra. “You could have warned me.”
Andrea sits up quickly, rushing to her side. “I promised I wouldn’t,” Andrea says, removing the cup from Miranda’s hand and placing it next to the Book. She sits on Miranda’s lap, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Miranda sighs and leans into Andrea, kissing her cheek. In the last ten years, Andrea has been her constant. A continual source of support and understanding, the rock upon which Miranda rests as the tides of misfortune try to erode her spirit. The last year in particular has been a strain and she knows her own sense of well-being is amplified by Andrea’s presence in her life.
“She comes from a long line of strong women,” Andrea murmurs, stroking Miranda’s arm.
“Yes, I suppose she does,” Miranda agrees. “It’s still not fair,” she says, for what she knows is the umpteenth time.
Andrea pushes an errant lock of hair off Miranda’s forehead. It’s a habit she’s learnt to tolerate, even enjoy, if she’s honest.
“None of that my love,” Andrea says. “You know how Cassidy feels about that attitude.”
“If I didn’t know before, I certainly do now,” Miranda replies, gesturing towards the Book.
Andrea kisses her cheek and snuggles against her. Miranda wraps her arms around Andrea, appreciating that in one respect, her life is still perfect.
“Does it really need much editing?”
Miranda shakes her head and leans her chin on Andrea’s shoulder. “No, you’ve done a good job already.”
“I really didn’t do much,” Andrea says quietly and Miranda understands how difficult the task was for her wife. Being the person to pitch the concept and support Cassidy through the writing process can’t have been easy. Miranda knows that her pain is a burden shared by Andrea.
“It’ll get better,” Miranda says firmly, patting Andrea’s leg. Taking the signal, Andrea stands up and then helps Miranda do the same. “It’s almost a new year. Things have to get better.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in that sentiment.”
Miranda smiles. It’s small but heartfelt nonetheless. “I don’t. But I do believe in my daughter. Her strength astounds me.”
“Me too,” Andrea agrees, reaching for Miranda’s hand and directing her out of the study.
As they make their way up the stairs, Miranda sends up a little prayer. Though the last year has been a challenge she still has faith. Faith in herself, faith in her family. And faith in some sort of higher power.
In their bedroom they both disrobe and prepare for bed. Though the room is silent, Miranda takes comfort in their shared ritual. After years of unhappiness, Miranda appreciates the joy of such tranquil domesticity.
“Her review with the oncologist is on Tuesday,” Miranda says, glancing up at Andrea before walking into their en-suite.
“I know,” Andrea says, following in her wake and leaning against the doorway. Miranda almost goes weak at the knees when she sees the look of devotion on Andrea’s face. “I’ll be there.”
Miranda smiles, the gratitude almost overwhelming in its magnitude. “I know,” she says, thinking that it’s one of the few things that she does know.
Though she has the best medical staff involved with her daughter’s treatment, Miranda has no guarantee it will be enough. Despite Cassidy’s responsiveness to the newest therapies available and the oncologist’s optimism, Miranda doesn’t know if luck will be on their side.
But what she does know, what she can trust and rely on, is that Andrea will remain by her side. Throughout the difficulties they've faced before, her wife has always demonstrated fortitude, love and loyalty. With this knowledge, she knows that whatever awaits them in the future they are bound together for life. And for that, she is infinitely grateful.