Monday, January 2, 2012

NY in OH



There's something that I find monumentally important about ringing in the New Year from the balm and the warmth and the dryer-hum of my childhood home. I won't say that it's a necessity, but I will say that it seems to have nosed itself into a regular tradition, and it's one that I have no intention of breaking.

It still gets kid-crazy here. It's much too loud much too late. But it's all somehow sized up in a special kind of relaxing. The air smells like firewood and the food tastes like the stuff I was raised on, home-canned beans, applesauce, scrambled eggs and Vernor's Ginger Ale.

This tiny town that grew me up, it seemed so big when I was young. A bike ride across town felt like a whole day's journey, the kind where you probably better pack a sack lunch or at least have two quarters in your pocket for the pop machine.

Today I saw from edge to edge with just one smooth sweep of my gaze. It's all right there, in its close, fond, quirkiness. I'm proud to be a part of it. It's grounding, this connecting of my past with my future.

I have no resolutions this year. I almost never do. I know I will change. I know I'll stretch and strain and the pulling on my heart might make it feel like it's all too much, too fast, or maybe that it's not nearly enough. It's too soon to say. But my hope is that I'll lean harder into the only solution that ever works.

I also hope I'll read more books, because I miss them.

I hope I'll stop eating crack bark like it's a normal thing to do in the middle of the day.

I hope I'll go to sleep earlier; that I'll shed more of my selfishness; that my love will be blazing orange, not a single shade paler.

From where I sit, the land where chocolate milk flows freely, Tom & Jerry plays on a loop and naps are just a La-Z-Boy away, the future looks like a wide sky of opportunity, so ready for me to run wild right into the middle of it.

Happy 2012, Homies. Let's run wild together.