it’s a new year — what should i say?
i’m back in boston, back from my trip, and even though its 2:45 am here, i’m wide awake because my body is still on california time.
strangely fitting — my body thinks it’s still in 2008. it does not register that a new year has begun. oh, i spent an enjoyable evening with friends — never fear — but things wound down long ago (we are so very grown up now: alarms to wake up to, places to go, schedules to keep, and bedtimes to yield to) and i am back home now — processing the scenery.
it looks so like 2008 from here: the ground is covered in fresh snow from 2008; my laundry from last year sits folded on my bedroom floor; the suitcase from my 2008 vacation lies opened, half-unpacked in the middle of my room. my cell phone battery is dying, last year’s energy nearly drained (but not quite), and even the darkness outside is leftover from 2008. (how funny that we begin a new year in the middle of the old night. even days — though they technically start at 12:00 — we herald with the dawn. but years begin shrouded in darkness, and we add our own lights and fanfare to compensate).
everything is so still, as if this new year tiptoed in, barely moving the air. i don’t think i’ve had a year start like this before — usually i’m with people, sometimes a big group, sometimes just family; some years start quietly, but that’s because i’m too tired to be social.
this morning (which feels like night — i am still waiting for dec 31′s sleep) i watch, matching the quietness: brimming with questions about a year that starts so wide awake and so, so silent.
