Ah, a new year! I love this part of the year, when everything seems possible just because I had to buy a new calendar. It feels as if with those 365 new blank pages life gets a reset.
Of course, that’s bullshit. Nothing changes just because the majority of mankind now uses another year when writing down dates. Nevertheless, the end of the old year has been a great opportunity to party ever since. At least until I became a mother of a son who hates parties. And who suffers from anxiety partly bound to time passing by, which makes celebrating New Year’s Eve more of a crisis intervention rather than anything else.
Hence, I spent last night at home. We watched ‘Dinner for one’ together, just as every year. We had nice dinner ourselves and then I was reading a book while the son did whatever he does when he is online with his programming community. At midnight I went down with the neighbours to have some firework, and then made some more food before we went to bed.
Did I mention that I hate that? Although, not hating, no. I am lazy, I like to be on my own and I love spending time with the son. But, that’s not how I want to meet the New Year. Ever since, I wanted to spend New Year’s Eve at a fancy cocktail party with live music and people dressed up in long dresses and suits. I never did. And I have no idea why. Except that I did not throw this party myself. And I don’t know people who do throw parties like that.
But that’s what I want to do on New Year’s Eve: Wear a beautiful dress, drink Cosmopolitan and dance with a gorgeous man when the band plays love songs. And at midnight, we watch the firework and make plans for the next 365 days.