“When We Were Little” Wednesday – New Year’s Edition

When I was little, New Year’s Eve carried a few traditions (surprise, surprise). There were a few years when Mom and Dad went out to dinner during the evening, leaving the three of us at home to watch Dick Clark and ring in the new year. (Remember, my older sister is 8 years older than me, so we were in good hands.) We would head out on the front porch at midnight (when we managed to stay up that late), drinking our sparkling cider and banging on pots and pans, screaming and shouting at the top of our lungs. (I’m sure our neighbors loved us.)

I remember one year in particular, something happened that caused me to say something about the “next time” that particular year came around. (As in, I thought that years came and went in cycles like the days of the week and the months of the year do.) Someone set me straight on my misconception and I remember actually crying because that year was gone forever. I had a strange feeling of loss that night, and regretted somehow that the year had come and gone without me realizing it was never coming back. That was a sad night.

Now, New Year’s is usually escorted in my sparklers and fireworks and merriment as everyone gathers at my parents’ house. This year, though, for *some reason* we won’t be ringing in the new year anywhere but at home…with Leah and, well, hopefully Mommy and Daddy sound asleep. Ah, how things change.

This picture isn’t from New Year’s, but it’s obviously in winter and so is the new year…so it seemed appropriate enough. And, obviously again, this wasn’t taken here in Georgia. That’s a lot of snow.