I am grateful for new beginnings.
The ones that are built into each day. Each month. Each year.
The more rare they are, the more monumental they feel.
I’ve always felt a pressure to have a great New Years. As if that one day would somehow set the tone for the rest of the year. I’ve always made plans and plans within plans and somehow been a little disappointed. Last year I stood in a group of people as they kissed and celebrated and still felt alone.
This year I let go of it all. I booked a flight on New Years Eve. I stepped off a delayed flight and waited too long for my bag. I made a half hearted effort to find a crowd, but then crawled under blankets and watched TV alone with a cup of tea. I looked up at 11:53. Then again at 12:07. My new year ticked in without any countdown. Without so much as my expression changing. I didn’t take any of the inconveniences as any sort of sign or roadmap for the upcoming year.
I’m learning that it is not 10 seconds that dictates an entire year, but a thousand little moments that make it up. Last year was hard and wonderful, painful and healing, frustrating and soothing, completely oblivious of my New Year’s count down.
I intentionally spent this one in solitude but still felt less alone than last year. Instead, I felt hope. The kind of hope that comes with a fresh start.