It's January 4. And the Christmas lights in our small town are keeping an early morning vigil, sentinels of a season now past. It's the paradoxical season of letdown endings and new beginnings. It's the season of fresh starts and leftovers. It's hope for what lies ahead and disappointment for what was left behind. We're in that caught-in-between-time. Are we waxing or waning? I never know what to make of the first of a year. Those of us who don't value sleep stay awake until midnight to cheer the dropping of a ball and a brand-new date on our calendars. The realists among us know that new date also signals time lost, never to be regained. Time may be opening a new vista in front of us, but that vast chasm left behind us grows ever larger while what lies ahead is ever-shrinking.
So, as we start the beginning of new year, I always wonder. Are we celebrating the possibilities? Are we whistling at a wake?
What do you think?
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