My New Year’s Eve is a day and night of reflection, replacing the noise of celebratory streamers.
It is not without fireworks, this reflection.
Often, E.B. White’s essay, “Once More to the Lake,”* comes to mind, although rarely am I lakeside. Rather, I become a lake, drinking in the “peace, jollity, and goodness” of a year almost past.
It is “infinitely precious and worth saving” no matter how I have marked the year. I flip through moments of months, a calendar of days, memories served skewed.
More than anything, New Year’s Eve reminds me to “enlarge my sense of things.” Life is immense, no glass will hold it—half-full or otherwise–to sip is to risk tasting only the bitter and never savoring the sweet.
Better to gulp life as “infinitely precious and worth saving.”
Best to stay a lake.
*All citations are from White’s essay.