Although, realistically speaking, we understand that one night between December and January shouldn't really make any difference at all - the sun rises and sets just as always - like little children we always keep a hope that this will be beginning of something else, better and happier. For a change, this year I decided not to burden myself with any decisions, resolutions or must-do things whatsoever. Que sera, sera. If anything, there are certain health issues that might be corrected (if not completely erased, ageing is inevitable after all) and instead of torturing myself with self-imposed tasks, I am simply grateful for being still here, still around to enjoy the wonder of the sunny mornings and affections of handful close friends, nothing else matters.
Since nicest thing that happened so far in 2018 was this beautiful message from a Chinese cookie, I decided to officially start the New Year on this blog with a poem that describes my feelings. It is actually just a part of much longer poem by Helen Hunt Jackson so if you are inclined, you can find more about her. For some reason poetry was always kind of neglected on this blog so here's to the new, fresh start:
"Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year’s morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are sacred days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only a sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old come true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born."