I still remember a time when the new year was a beacon of hope.
This was the time when a display of fireworks welcomed us into the new year and music played until the wee hours of the baby year. A time when we would spend the first half of the night in church and the other half roaming around the streets and looking at the revellers who were dancing and drinking. A time when we looked forward to the changing of dates and the giddiness and excitement that came with that.
New Year’s Eve was the day we prayed the old year away and partied the new year in. When we were young, at the stroke of midnight, we would burn the Christmas tree in the middle of the road and go around banging saucepans and screaming, “Happy New Year!” I don’t know why we burnt the Christmas tree but I imagine it’s a tradition that carried over from the past. Now we just neatly pack our plastic trees and pull them out around the next Christmas time.
We were always so happy at the start, hoping that the brand new year would bring in new things, new ages, new classes, new loves, new jobs, new clothes even. The new year presented new opportunities to be better about certain things. To be new versions of ourselves. At the advent of social media, #NewyearNewMe would be trending.
How naive we were. How naive we hoped. It took me a long time to realize that the new year didn’t, in fact, bring in a new me. It did, however, carry over the issues I had in the past year. New year, same old me became the thing. I still hoped. Still felt the magic. Still danced in the year. But I wasn’t so disillusioned to believe that anything about me would change unless I willed it.
Resolutions are another thing. I never stick to them. I know people who are still working through their resolutions of 2017. I am people. Truth be told, I don’t think New Year’s Resolutions work with a person who believes the new year will usher in new them. We can still resolve to change things about ourselves in the middle of the year and not just at the start of the year. A new mindset is more important than the new year.
At the start of the decade, I was optimistic for a brilliant time ahead. I hoped against hope that nothing would top the pain I felt in 2019 when my baby sister died. And then 2020 came and with it, an increased anxiety (from 10 to 1000) and fear of human contact. And then 2021 came and with it the loss of my beloved father. Ironically, he died on father’s day. Six months later, I’m still reeling from this loss. My father was my best friend and that pain is not going away.
So now, while I still believe that the new year will ring in a new age, I am hoping that this new year will bring healing for me and for everyone that lost a loved one and are still grieving that loss
I also believe that the new year will bring love. It’s been a year since I caught the bouquet and, well, it’s time to buy into the superstition and get married. Maybe my writing about it on here will spur on the future husband? Maybe this is me manifesting somebody’s son. I don’t know.
Thank you all so much for taking this ride with me through 2021. May 2022 bring more magic and may we have more cause to believe in this magic again. May we see in ourselves the strength we don’t know we have. May we hold ourselves accountable for promises we don’t keep. May we love. Deeply. And out Loud. May we continue to survive COVID-19 and all it’s remixes. And may this panaroma end.
Happy New Year.