Saturday, January 1, 2011

To 2011.

I spent New Years with some friends in a gray void down by a pier in front of the Atlantic Ocean.

We had expected to see fireworks by the harbor, the traditional explosions in the distance, fire in the sky. Countdowns, toasts, clear skies.
But instead, we found a night with fog as dense as steel wool clinging to our skin, with visibility hardly five feet in front of us. We couldn't see lights, we didn't hear explosions. All we could see was gray nothingness, a sort of frightening nothingness at our fingertips.
And quite honestly, my thoughts about the new year were the same, that is, I had none.

So here's to the new year,
To my expectations for this year being as obscure as our view from the pier, not having a damn clue what lies out there in front of me,
To not even knowing if I'll have what it takes to meet whatever is there.

But here's also to knowing that no matter what happens, this is life.
We live, we love, we lose. In retrospect, 2010 showed me all of this, and more. Much more than I expected to see.
And whether I'm ready for it right now or not, this is another year.

2011, hit me with your best shot, and by best, I mean, not too hard, please.
I usually make resolutions, but I have none this year. When my expectations are more foggy than they've ever been, there is no possible way I could make any semblance of a resolution.

And to everyone who may stumble across this, here's a toast to you, too:

May your love be greater than your loss, and if not, may love be in your loss. May you find passion in your grief, happiness in your solitude. And may you seek beauty in everything you do.


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