Every year on New Year's Eve, my usual desire for parties and excitement gives way to another desire: To be home. With just my family.
Every New Year's Eve, we make a cheese platter and pour bubbly apple juice into fancy glasses and put on New Year's hats and leis and crowns and toast to all the great things that happened during the year, to reflect on all the hard things that we went through that year and to be proud of all our year's accomplishments.
Then we take a series of crazy family photos and countdown to the New Year in England at 6:00 p.m.
Coen and Lucy are in bed by their usual bedtime (This was the first year that Coen was miffed about not staying up until Midnight. That's going to have to change pretty soon I suppose.) and Tad and I pull the dining room table into the living room where it's warmest and the Christmas tree is still aglow, and we re-read love letters from when we were first together and living apart for a year--I in Estonia and he in Milwaukee.
And then we have our own review of the year.
I love New Years Eve. And the winter holidays in general. But the world starts again tomorrow. Sort of. Well, Monday will come regardless of how cold it is....
So welcome back to the world to me and any of you who also need welcoming.