For auld lang syne, my dear
for auld lang syne
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet
for auld lang syne.
New Year’s Eve, what a day you are in every age and stage. From my youthful longing to make it to midnight, to the y2K celebration at my grandma’s, to the open bar scene in some questionable establishment, to the first and only time I stood in Times Square in a sea of strangers who smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap boxed wine, to the fine dining in city eateries, to the happiness of knowing I forever have a New Year’s kiss at midnight, to the next year’s realization that it’s the many other countless kisses that will matter more, to the New Year’s Eve parties with bottles and bibs for the babies as I shoved cold food in my mouth at a record pace, to the uh-oh I drank too much champagne and my toddler needs to be entertained early era, to the quarantined New Year’s Eves where it felt sad and lonely, to the reunited and it feels so good but we’re middle aged now so we have a few drinks and get dark and deep in our conversations, to the “let’s do brunch” and get to bed early so we can start the new year off right of this year’s agenda; no matter how it’s celebrated, it’s always a day with a recognition and reflection of the age and stage I’m in.
I often find myself making these grand statements or predictions on the last or first day of the year. Sometimes we say the things that happened, or that we wish to happen, too quickly. My wish this New Year’s Eve is to slow it down.
I learned a lot in 2023. I failed a lot too. I was rejected more times than I can count, let a lot of goals go, had a lot of anxiety, and missed my maternal grandparents the most since they passed away in 2017. I found myself worried about things and time more than ever before, and despite a full calendar with a lot of productive projects and roles, I cried almost weekly over the lack of direction in my writing. I didn’t do much working out, and I didn’t love the way I felt. I felt the strain of poor sleep habits and craved more intentional time with my family. My parenting felt harder and heavier.
But I did a lot of volunteering and good work too. I found some joy in politics through working with women I admire. I saw my children grow and delve deeper into interests and opportunities. My husband and I had some pretty fantastic fikas. I spent quality time with friends who are like family. I placed third in a story slam competition, but it felt like first. It was my first time performing in years, and that feeling of victory when defying doubt has saved and sustained me more than I am able to express. I rediscovered and reclaimed parts of me I hadn’t seen since pre motherhood. I learned my niece is coming to college nearby. I felt the love of my family intensely and warmly despite distance. I entered a late but welcomed empowering phase of quieting people or ideas that are toxic or dangerous. I was able to understand the hard things I need to do in order to become a better version of myself. I asked for things without fear of judgement. I woke up before the sun to write or walk to the town Christmas tree.
It was a year of loss and gain. As I unpack it all, and then repack for the New Year, I’ll leave some things behind while others will clothe me in comfort and confidence as I move forward. I hope whatever age and stage you’re in, these words find you respecting the gift of time to revel in the mayhem and magic. Every New Year’s Eve is different, but each calls for us to be nostalgic and channel hope with kindness and love. And so we kiss goodbye to what was and kiss hello to what will be.
Wising you the chance to slow down, a full heart, and so much love. XO
The Forty Files 