once again…
by bam
there is a crispness to this new year, to any new year, that like a newly laundered bedsheet, pulled tight around the corner of the bed, invites us in, to fling our tired selves upon its smoothed-out softness, to refresh, shake off the cobwebs, give it yet another try.
the new year, the dawn of january’s oneness, is clean, unscratched. like those new white p.f. flyers you got when you were six, the ones in which you tried to only tiptoe for a good few minutes, see how long you could make it before you left a smudge of dirt, a scrape upon the rubber bottoms. until you forgot, started running. dove in hard and muddy, those once new shoes.
and so it is with the turning of the calendar, the clicking up of yet another year, a shiny digit added to the nameplate that sits upon the desk in the department of the year.
in my geometry, it’s yet another spiral–not a circle to which we’re forever confined. we round the bend, see how sights have shifted, what’s there we’ve never seen before.
i’m not so much for resolutions, would rather merely keep up the climb. take one moment’s tender triumphs, another moment’s sorrows, the joys, the disappointments, call them, “oh, well…life.”
i am wholly and fully awake to the truth that every year brings unexpected twists, brings heartache of sometimes immeasurable proportion. and so i’m braced. always half holding my breath, i do admit.
for this one unscuffed morning, though, i might stoke my january self with the delight of scribbling one short list, a list worthy of concentrated effort at one point or another as the year unfolds.
and so, in the spirit of that freshly laundered, unwrinkled bedsheet, i’ll hope to encounter these few holy triumphs:
i’d not mind more gatherings at my table, dinners long and animated, breakfasts that somehow spread all the way till darkness steals away the shadows. till we look up and realize we’ve spent the whole long day shifting from the table to the kitchen to the couch and back again to the table.
i look forward to the moments when someone launches into announcement with the preamble, “good news!” words that always spark my ever-eager heart.
i’ll delight, perhaps, in spying on a nest of baby birds, and absorbing all there is to learn from the mama bird who flies in worms, who withstands of the heartache of the one wee thing who falls from that nest, doesn’t make it. for i know the arithmetic of nests and it is sobering.
i’ll await the sound of rain pit-a-patting on my windows.
and the holiness of candles, wherever they burn. church or table, in particular.
i’ll hope for a long walk in the woods. hearing the crunch of leaves beneath my soles, feeling the expansion of my lungs and the pounding of my heart, besides. dodging in and out of dappled forest light.
i will savor the days when all the boys i love are falling asleep in the same darkened house. when i needn’t worry because one of us is far away, too too far away.
i can’t wait to hear the tales of my ella-bella-beautiful, the little little girl growing up too far away. i hope i’m by her side when she turns one, when a cupcake and single candle is more than plenty for those chubby little hands and the bright and shining eyes.
i look forward to one fat red tomato, one whose juice runs down my chin. and is sprinkled with kosher salt and fresh-cracked tellicherry pepper.
i hope and pray this year brings me the chance to sit outside just after dawn, listening to morning song and wind blowing through the branches.
i await the end of day some day when my shoulders ache from digging all day long, from hauling rocks, cutting limbs, learning once again that the best tools i own are the ones i was born with.
i look forward to a great read, wherever i stumble upon it. and along with that i hold my breath hoping for the moments, holy ones indeed, when i am listening to the plaintalk of an ordinary someone and out pours poetry and once again i am stunned at the power of the human mind and its capacity for story and storytelling.
i count on this year to bring me long walks with the boys i love, the tall one with the big big ideas, the little one who every time takes my hand in winter to keep me from falling on the ice, his tenderness and caretaking always just beneath the surface of his 8-year-old busy busy self.
i’ll leave it there–for now…and make a wish for all of us to find blessing in the days ahead, and strength to stride the potholes. happy blessed new year, indeed.
carry on, friends. what would be the moments you await and hope for?
I hope to be the first to wish BAM a Happy Birthday 2010!
I look forward longingly to my daughter’s peace with herself. I move toward the one-year memorial for my sister-in-law’s death with that frantic anticipation of someone without sufficient coat on a cold, cold night who anticipates shelter soon. I feel as though a year’s calcified sadness will crumble away, turn to dust. I know that is not true, but still I look forward to it nevertheless.I hope to lose a little weight and get a little stronger.I imagine a time when career dreams come true.And yup, I look forward to wishing bam a happy birthday too! (even though I’m not first)
well bless you both, you early birds. tis not yet…..as i amble toward it, without much falderal this year. my mate is far far away in dubai. my boys little and big are under my wings, for another year. it’ll be a quiet day, as i like it best. need to fetch me some wood for the fire is all…..then it’ll be a long day in front of the fire….
“Crispness” doesn’t even come close to that air outside today!!! Fresh is is and I am awakened to the bone. Happy Blessed Bday Bam…..I will light a table candle tonight in honor. As for the new year…..my hope is that my roots are deep enough and strong enough to keep me in place to weather whatever comes my way with grace and learning. Those who gather at this table will help me in that way. Happy New Year to all who pull up a chair and may all our birthdays this year bring joy.
what a lovely communal wish. that everyone’s birthday be a day in which they feel remembered and loved, and touched with little kindnesses throughout the day…..on a sad note, i add that our beloved friend jan’s dad died this morning, early early morning. it’s a wholly hard moment for her, as it has been a terribly hard holiday season. he was a vital lively 82 until he went to the ER two weeks ago today, and then things crumbled quickly and he never left the hospital. please keep jan, who sometimes comes here, and always infuses us with wisdom and poetry, in your lighted prayers. the funeral is tomorrow…..
a happy fresh bright new year to you, bam… and to all your tall and not so tall boys. i hope every single wish for simple goodness comes your way this and every year.i send xo
Jack’s mother, Jan’s father, such sadness in what is to be a happy time of year which makes it all the more difficult. Tender hugs and whispered prayers for comfort and for peace … how dear that we have this virtual table to gather ’round for one another, to reach a hand through cyberspace, knowing that love and care shall carry where our physical beings cannot … may God bring peace to our hearts here and throughout our new year.
Happy New Year to all, and a very happy birthday to Bam. Also, my sincere sympathy to Jan. These are the hard days, but when you find time to catch your breath, I hope you find some peace. And, JCV, my prayers are with you as you face such a sad anniversary. 2010 promises to be memorable in many ways. I am looking forward first to getting through this winter with patience and grace. These cold and dark days need to be endured because of the goodness that follows. I will have more time to tend my garden this spring and summer, and I will be diligent with weed pulling. I look forward to feeling the sun on my shoulders as I pull and dig those nasty things from the ground. I’m also looking forward to the call of the spring time birds and the sight of those colorful flyers. Summer will be full of wedding preparations for my youngest son who has an early fall wedding planned. Lots to be done since he’ll be moving out, not too far I hope, but far enough to carve out his own life with his beautiful soon to be wife. And then there’s his wedding to look forward to. I hope for wonderful weather that day, gentle breezes and sunshine. Then, I have my empty nest to look forward to. And if the housing market does improve, the nest will move to a new locale. There’s so much to look forward to, and so much promise in the future. I hope everyone’s wishes for the new year come true!
and here, in the middle of the dark night, i come to this circle of light and gentleness. of hands always reaching across the table to comfort, of arms that wrap around quivering shoulders.i couldn’t sleep as i begin another night watch as a plane leaves the ground in dubai, where my husband has been toiling for the last 10 days. i am counting the hours till he gets to the airport, and spent time just now reading the comments on his dispatches from dubai, and found myself feeling sick at some of the vitriol that routinely comes with soo sooo many blog posts. i came rushing back over here for a gulp of oxygen; i found what i was looking for, great good gentle souls. i am almost afraid to write it, but somehow we have managed to safeguard this little space and keep it fresh and rich and filled with light.jack your words about the springtime to come, and the weeding in your garden, your attention to the breeze on your youngest one’s wedding day, it is all balm–to you, and to each of us who have read your raw pain…..the cycles of grieving, like so many of life cycles, are so poetic when we take them in in their wholeness.sosser, bless you for coming over to help blow out the birthday candles. i think i forgot to light a candle on that day…..maybe some day soon.bless you each and all….and thank you more than ever for your gentleness and heart here….