It’s New Year’s Eve 2019, and in some ways, it’s just like any other night. The evening settles in as comfortably as pulling on pajamas. My husband and I walk the dogs, and afterwards, he hunkers down into bed with the television remote fixed on a predictable channel. We make time-honored, middle-aged jokes about being too old to do anything other than watch the ball drop in New York City. I roam the house, placing a random mug into the dishwasher, locking the front door, tossing a paper towel into the recycling bin, and ensuring that the dining room chairs are tucked neatly under the table.
I’ve always loved the promise of a new year; January 1st inspires me. I happily anticipate the upcoming year, brimming with objectives, plans, and promises. I imagine each season with relish and brightly await the events and holidays that each one brings.
But this year’s eve feels different and somewhat disquieting. My normally optimistic bent on the new year is tempered, and I’m not certain why. The junction of the old year and the new one feels bittersweet. I have memories about 2019 that distress me, and the vestige of uncertainty undermines my self-confidence. Those reflections mitigate my unbridled enthusiasm for looking forward.
And yet, I can’t divorce myself from the hopefulness that stems from renewal. It’s impossible to distance myself from the joyful expectancy of a year that is reborn in its infancy. On New Year’s morning, I wake up, pull on my running shoes, and head outdoors. The reassuring thump of my footsteps aligns my head and my heart. I know that a bright future is enhanced, not moderated, by the remembrance of a disconcerting past.
I approach a crossroad, and I hesitate – for just a moment. I know that I am where I am, right now, because of decisions and commitments I made in the past, some of which unsettle me and others which encourage me. I pause, heartened by the knowledge that every juncture presents me with an opportune decision that only I can make.
I breathe in the chilly, damp, still-nightly dark air. I move forward and take a turn. My eyes are fixed on the path that I selected, which brightens as it comes into focus. The unchosen route drops away and is cast aside. The limitless and joyful potential of the future only exists due to its juxtaposition with the past’s disconcerting doubt. It is the concurrence of familiar and the unknown that fills me with purpose.
My stride lengthens, and my pace quickens. I run towards a brightly positive new year.