Happy New Year! (And other small things)
Clock ticking over. Random drunkenness. Kissing?
It’s the new year, so technically I am blog-ilogically obligated to say something about goal-setting or starting fresh or winter base miles, right?
I’ll probably say these things. Later. Maybe. Goals are for the good and base miles make cyclists all of the things that they can be later down the line. Resolutions, insofar as they inspire and encourage positive change in the lives of many, cannot be considered bad.
All this is true.
But what does it mean when the clock ticks over and a ball drops dramatically in an overcrowded city full of lonely, unsatisfied people? Nothing. Pardon the drama, but time is kind of arbitrary if you get right down to it. Don’t you think?
So where does that leave us?
With infinite potential. Potential not bound to arbitrary dates and calendars and clocks.
My brother-in-law looked at me on December 31st at 7:34pm pacific time and said, “Let’s celebrate on New York time. For Emily’s sake…” he motioned toward his 6 year old daughter, my sister’s child, the possible reincarnation of myself if not for the niggling fact that I am not yet dead.
In truth, he just wanted to set the fireworks off early, but it didn’t matter – I was easily convinced. Nine pm is midnight is 3am is January second. It doesn’t matter.
Let’s mark the time together as a family, send rainbow explosions into the winter sky, sit around a bonfire while the snow falls. Let’s trick the smallest one into thinking that it’s midnight and all the world is kissing under confetti. She’ll scream and squeal and then fall asleep in our laps while we exchange knowing glances.
What is important about the new year isn’t midnight.
What is important is that we stop and pause and recognize the inevitable progression of our lives. That we look around us and see. That we take a moment to notice. That we mark something important. That we check for progress and direction.
That we remember what to write on our checks and official documents and journal entries (although no one really writes checks anymore, do they?).
Or maybe we just get drunk and dance and celebrate the fact that we have made it one more year. We’re still alive and kicking. We’re making it, man. We’re thriving. Or at least surviving.
When the clock struck twelve on official Pacific Time, I was warm and safe and happy and peaceful. And maybe a little tipsy. I raised a glass and smiled a little too much.
I was with someone I loved, with a winter storm dumping feet and feet of snow outside the window.
Snow is ice is cold is winter is new years, but our days are all seasons cycling. Pun intended.
Here’s to 2009.
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