Maybe you don’t buy into the whole resolution thing. You’re a logical human being and you know that there is no real significance in our arbitrary calendar turning over to a new year. But there is something in the air that just can’t be denied or ignored. A promise is hanging off of everything. It settles into every little crease and coats our lives like frost.
I got up this morning and went running. Streamers were squished into the sidewalk with broken champagne bottles and plastic bubbly flutes. The air was especially quiet, fog covering the the lake and hiding the tops of Seattle’s tallest buildings. Everyone I passed was smiling, hopeful and welcoming.
Before my five miles were over the sun had broken through the clouds and basked everything in warm, bright light. It reflected off the water and lit up all the windows on our street. This is the third New Year’s Day in a row that I can remember and the sun has always been out. Beautiful and welcoming, telling us that this year can be anything we want it to be. Reminding us this year hasn’t broken our hearts yet. That maybe this year won’t.