“If this were the last night of the world,
What would I do?
What would I do that was different?
Unless it was champagne with you.”
Grandmother used to let us stay awake.
The farm sat on seven acres, Our Snow White, green roofed home a warm fortress from the Expansive cold-
The clock would strike, She would point to the French doors that peered downhill to the pond.
“Watch the old man run out at midnight. Do you see him? Now look for the brand new baby to run in.”
The picture she planted in my imagination projected itself onto the snowy landscape, The New Year. Then we were ushered off to bed. I have a roledex if her metaphors stored in the hidden chambers of my heart, And days like today I flip through them.
Today feels eerily like the climate of my childhood,
I feel as I grow older,
The veil between memories grows thinner.
Like everything is beginning to make more sense.
This is the last day of the year,
The sun is shining.
No big plans.
Just me and my kids and the Ghost of My Grandmother.
Wolf Moon tomorrow,
Quite a powerful start I’d say.
Hoping this New Year Brings you a new kind of peace.
And if there is no light, or you cannot see the light,
Then be the light.