Standing in the gap between 2015 and 2016, circling slowly, I see all the things that matter to me frozen in that moment of time. One son in the air between Colombia and Chile, flying dark skies over treacherous mountains, fireworks exploding below as he makes his way to the bottom of the globe in search of What To Do Next. The other son somewhere closer, drinking with whomever is available to avoid the ultimate twenty-one-year-old agony of no plans on New Year’s eve. My friends with plans of their own, or posting wishes and resolutions on Facebook, my work on brief hiatus for a few hours.
I’m in my bed, my old dog on hers. The cop show on the TV is turned up to drown out the sound of the fireworks that terrify her, and that chase away last year’s sorrows and victories for those few moments, until they all come rushing back to join new ones in the coming year.
I’m not sure why we make such a big deal out of the new year, really just another day followed by weeks of check-writing mistakes. A marker to be glad we survived, I guess. A good stopping point to hope that the future brings more good things, or maybe something easier. Lately I see it as one step farther away from what I value most: the kids at home, the dogs they grew up with, my father’s unique and precious lunacy. Each new year’s explosion causing just a little damage to my infrastructure. One less dog now. One less kid home, the other just visiting.
I’ve never liked champagne. And what kind of celebration inspires Auld Lang Syne, a song of loss and wistful remembrance, to be sung?
The stroke of midnight closes. A plane flies above the Andes, hurtling toward adventure. Another beer bottle opens in a room full of partiers. The dog groans in her sleep and stretches out, the pyrotechnics kept at bay by a car chase and a shootout on cable. My phone dings with a few messages, some emails come in, I settle in. There will be good coffee in the morning, words with friends, a call to my father, a kiss from a son, and maybe a text from another. The dog will get her slow sniff around the park. My work, stressful and satisfying, will resume, and one more lucky, difficult, priceless loop around the sun will be underway.