There is something symbolic in watching the rain fall on the first day of a new year. Like a morning shower washes away the debauchery from the night before or a car wash removes evidence of inclement weather, the pounding rain is cleansing the earth of a year passed.
I would love to confess, and engage your jealous streak, that I welcomed the New Year on a yacht off the coast of Miami. After dancing lights died and the sky was returned to black, I boarded a private plane and landed in Los Angeles just in time to toast in the New Year once more. Impossibility aside, I would love to flood your imagination with this tale….but I cannot.
Truthfully, I brought the New Year in as picture perfect as a Picasso, in the arms of my two sons. Adventurously, we made a last minute decision to head downtown amidst hundreds of people intoxicated with the spirit of excitement and well just spirits. We saw very few children and stares from grandmothers questioned my parental capabilities, but none of that mattered.
We ate funnel cakes, drank hot chocolate and tried on tons of illuminated glasses and silly hats. The boys gazed in at news anchor, Tisha Powell as she danced to a song only those in the WTVD 11 station could hear and received a wave from Fred Shropshire as he prepped to go on air. We counted over thirty sparkly gold dresses worn by women in their 20’s who either missed the weather report or ignored it in hope of attracting that one kiss. “You’re going to have pneumonia in the morning” one of my dates shouted from the rickshaw we ran down to avoid walking any further.
On the ride home, my inquisitive riders questioned why there was an acorn, to which I explained that Raleigh is called the City of Oaks. Then they questioned why the event was called First Night Raleigh when it was actually the last night and the first morning, to which I had nothing. When we all tucked into the community bed about an hour later, they marveled at how I am the best mommy in the world…adding, “but do you think Child Protective Services would get you for that?”
I can’t think of a better way to begin a year….
But since you don’t have to be 20 something to wear a sparkly gold dress, I may just adorn myself in one next year…in Miami.