Writer of fiction, poetry, etc - based in Vancouver BC
I have a ritual on New Year’s Eve—no matter where I go out to, I want to be back at home for midnight. I want to have that instant with my mom and grandpa, letting off a bottle of champagne, watching the cork fly away into the dark of the front yard, and begin another year together. It started when I lived in Montreal, and was only back for a week or two at a time, so it was that important to share these small rituals I could be there for; it continues because I know these small rituals remain important, and these times won’t last forever. So, have them. So you can keep them with you onwards.
I had been out with Mark and Kirk. Movie night, plus a dinner and some drinks at the Wolf and Hound, where there was live music until past midnight. They wanted to stay and have another round. But I left early so I could make it back for that midnight champagne. The three of us sat on the porch sipping that as we heard others bang pots and pans.
At about 1 in the morning, Mark came back to grab his bag before heading onwards into the night. I followed him out to say goodbye to Kirk, too.
It was a good way to start the year.
This entry is deliberately shorter than usual. I’m tired of documenting every minute of my life, and the quality is declining as it becomes an empty ritual. Might even take a break until something inspires me.
Happy New Year.
P.S. You can tell how tired I am. The fatigue bleeds out of this. Too much writing, not enough sleep. I spent all day working on editing that story I keep mentioning, and I keep forgetting to do things like booking a dentist appointment. I need a good night's sleep