I can’t help it. Every year I try to suppress it. To keep the chuckle under the control, the face solemn. I can’t help it. I give in. I love New Year’s Eve. I love to close the book on one year and open a fresh journal page on another.
I know rationally that its nonsense. In terms of a matrix of universe, time and space, the fact that’s Big Ben chimes midnight in London is irrelevant to anything. It’s a date on the Gregorian calendar celebrating Janus, the two-faced god, one looking backwards and the other looking forwards (hurrah!).
If I was Chinese, my New Year wouldn’t start until the end of January or thereabouts, a Tamil and I wouldn’t be opening the bubbly until the 14th April. And if I was back in my beloved New Zealand, I’d already have been on the beach watching the fireworks and kissing friends and by now would be tucked up in bed with a smile on my face.
The smile would have nothing to do with being naughty or nice but because I’m a sucker for a New Year. I just love it. The past is the past. Some bits of 2011 were great and some definitely not so great. The really important thing is that I’m here! Here to watch the sun rise and the sun set, here to hug my family, laugh at movies, be moved by books, enjoy wonderful meals and a thousand other delights of being alive.
I’ll be up at midnight, outside on a tower block balcony watching the fireworks, drinking bubbly, whooping in the New Year, as giddy as a three year old expecting toys as Christmas. As giddy as the puppy this Christmas Eve who, for no apparent reason, ran round and round the room for the sheer joy of being able to.
I’m here to create a new year. The whole year is spread before me like I’m standing at the top of a hill. What am I going to do with my new year? What are you going to do with your fresh page? How is 2012 going to be your (and my) best year yet?
