Aught Not

The last day of 2009 dawned silent and white, with so many inches of fresh snow dusting the streets and catching on our rooftops view. After a late breakfast, I watched, unplanned, "Shadow of a Doubt" before giving in to the inevitable task of dismantling our Christmas tree. In one carefully packed box, I included a short note to myself. Folded and slipped between the ornaments, I'll come upon it one day next December, when I unpack our decorations to trim another tree, in another city, in another apartment. It will serve as a small reminder to my future self of how I'm feeling on this day, and what I'm hoping for and anticipating in the days that will pass between now and then.

Later tonight, Gus and I will honor a special tradition. One of us will slip a nondescript, black leather notebook from our bookshelf, and in it we will turn to a fresh page. After titling it "2009," a list will be made of that which we are most thankful for from this past year. The lists start out the same - our marriage, our health, our family and friends. Laughter, vacations, good meals we have shared. Included also, some things private, perhaps small but significant moments that have stood out over the course of the last twelve months. Once we reach the end of our list, or the end of the page, the notebook will be closed and returned to its place on the shelf, not to be opened again until this time next year, when what still awaits us will be remembered and recorded.

A happy and safe New Year to all!

The Year in Review

As is true most years, the week between Christmas and New Year's is a strange one. Six days caught between the past and future, without any pressing importance of its own, it hangs in the balance between what has happened and what it to come. It's stuck with being the inevitable letdown that follows the excitement of Christmas, but before the revelry of the year's end. Our tree still juts kindly into our living room, dry and and lonely without its buoy of gifts, while my Audrey Hepburn wall calendar, turned to its last page, itches to be recycled. Today I wrote 1-1-10 for the first time as I post-dated our rent check for the coming month. On the television and radio, Top Ten lists have been compiled for the last turn of the earth while predictions are made for the year that lies ahead.

The sentimental and silly part of me, despite everything, wants to hold onto the year behind, although I suppose it's mainly the Christmas tree I'm sorry to see go. Meanwhile, my inner sophisticate reaches for the year ahead and the splashy potential and flashy promise it holds. Inevitably the latter, I know, will win out. Plans have been made for New Year's Eve and Day, which include the dismantling of the tree, and 2009 becomes one more for the books.

This afternoon, I cracked open my new Moleskine calendar for 2010, transferring birthdays, holidays and other important dates to the fresh new year. I looked over what I had recorded of the last year and where I was at this time one year ago. It's been a long year -- a tumultuous one, as they all seem to be to my mind's eye. Not my best, and not my worst. At times I didn't think I would make it, but I did and here I am, staring down the year I've waited for for so long, it's seemed an enigma. The year that, now that it's upon us, I'm hoping will be one of my best and brightest, full of adventure, happiness, health, hope and wonder.