My eyes continue to keep me mostly off the computer, but I'm hoping this year will be a stronger one.
Anyway, this is one of my favorite New Years Eve memories because it was so different.
Back when I was living in a Boston commune with the nameless R who traveled down the east coast with me in my book, Sea Trails, I'd flown to Pageland, S.C., my hometown, for Christmas. My plane was due in mid-evening New Year's Eve. There were delays. I picked up a bottle of cold champagne at Logan and caught a taxi with another gal headed up Commonwealth. It was creeping towards midnight and I'd told R I would try my best to get there in time to be there with him. Traffic became a parking lot at the Commons and the clock was ticking down ten minutes to midnight. I told the cabbie to open the trunk. I quickly got out the champagne, popped the cork and all three of us took a swig from the bottle as the people in the cars all around us started screaming Happy New Year. It was exhilarating. R was up and waiting when I got there. Those were in the times when we were still giddy with each other and I was glad to rush into his arms.
a blue moon drifts
over roaring crowds
the Tiger arrives