New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve

2012

Drawing on memories of New Year's Eves bring few big bold wows.  Seems we tend to like them simple.  I remember being very young and dancing on a table with unknown faces doing the same.  I remember listening to coyotes on a cold New Year's Eve with my dad explaining why they howel.  I remember times with friends, blowing on silly paper horns and wearing a silly paper hat, and, I remember once, when I was so very young, the boy I thought was wonderful, kissed someone else at the stroke of midnight.  

 

New Year's Eve always brings a bit of magic.  I passed my mother's way on to my children.  At midnight we took out all the pans and banged them together making as much noise as possible for as long as we felt like it.  Then we put the pans away and went to bed.  What a silly tradition.  When my daughter was about seven and my son four, we opened the doors and banged our pans as loud as possible for as long as we felt like it.  She, however, noticed that no one else in the neighborhood was banging on pans.  "Mommy, why aren't the other people banging on their pans?"  "I don't know, sweatheart, maybe they fell asleep."  "That's too bad for them.  This is really fun." 

 

The magic starts just as the sun starts to set.  It's a free time.  A space between all the fuss and frizzle of the past two months, and the unknown responsibilities of the year to come.  It's a space to think about the life you have lived, the people who have touched you, prodded you, guided you on. It's a space to meet yourself. 

 

So what is your fondest memory of 2012?  I always ask these kinds of questions at our gatherings.  Mine was our trip, Jed's and mine.  We don't have any credit, so getting a vehicle that would fit our needs. with his handicap, was almost beyond reach, but somehow, with the grace of God leading us through each step of the process, we were able to buy a great van to accomodate us.  We closed the shop for a month and took a ten day trip to Colorado, just the two of us.  It was magic.  Just like tonight. 

 

I'm not much for resolutions, but they do seem like such a good idea.  Problem is, being human almost always gets in the way of even the best intended ones.  So, this year, I resolve to remember.  To remember the people I've loved and who have loved me.  To remember that time is short and magic does not come every day, unless you look for it, and do your part to make it.  And, to remember that it's all, magic or not, God given. 

 

Jed is still a quadriplegic.  He walks farther at therapy than he did last year, but still is unable to bring the walk home.  He struggles with pain and frustration, but guides me through tough days and hard decisions.  He relies on others for everthing short of wheelchair movement, but he stands tall in my eyes.  This New Year's Eve we're watching an old movie for the nth time and cozying in to the life we've been granted.  We are thankful. 

 

We will not be banging on pans tonight, but maybe, just maybe, our grandchildren will.