When the countdown comes on, you feel a strange tingle it's been ages since you knew. Your favorite bar - your sweet refuge in a sea of change - is as usual a mosaic of New Yorkers making their way through the world, and for a moment you are all the same. A flamboyant man in a small tank top gives you all beads, your favorite bartender throws paper party horns at everyone along the bar, the room erupts in joyous mayhem. At 12:01, a group of youngsters leave, and you are tempted to tell them, back in my day. Your phone explodes in wishes for a happy new year, and you think perhaps we have to hold on to these shreds of joy, when the rest of the world is in such shambles.
You vow to hold on to those shreds best you can.
In the morning, a new world lies silent in anticipation. Nothing has changed, but it is possible everything has changed. You look back at the year behind you, at how impossibly far you've come since the last January first, what beautiful, soul-affirming, awe unfurled before you, as you returned yourself to the world. This year, may it be just the next step in a staircase you've spent so much effort in building.
This year, may you tie those shreds into a lasso,
may you use them to go forth and capture
the stars.
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