I have no plans this New Year’s Eve. It will probably be a quiet one, at home, just Mr. Pear Tree and I. We’ll watch a video. Crack open something bubbly at midnight. It will be lovely. Quiet. A simple start to 2012.
But it’s got me thinking about New Years’ past. The ones that have singularly stood out. There was a time when I tried to mix things up, and never do the same kind of celebration twice.
I’ve been kissed by perfect strangers in Trafalger Square, climbed a mountain in Korea, toasted with cold coffee from a drinks machine on an empty street in Osaka (and later tracked down the big celebration at a temple across town). I once clinked glasses with my reflection on the window of a 747 bound for London (everyone else was sleeping).
I’ve gone to church.
I’ve played games with the family, I’ve watched Dick Clark count down to midnight and the big apple (but not in person), I’ve gone snowboarding during the day and was so wiped afterward that I accidentally slept through the festivities.
But while each one holds a special place in my heart, I think my favourite New Year’s Eve of all was the night before I married Mr. Pear Tree. Not only were we surrounded by dear friends, playing games, making corsages and boutonnieres (the quote of the night came at about 11 p.m. when the bride said, “Right, now. What shall we do about a bouquet?”)
It was a night full of optimism and on the cusp of change – like every New Year’s Eve should be, but more so.
New Year’s Eves like that don’t come along very often. And they shouldn’t – that would diminish the impact and remarkableness of them.
So this year, in addition to anticipating future adventures, I will be remembering New Year’s Eves of olde. For auld lang syne.
What’s your favourite way to celebrate the New Year?