For the second year in a row, I brought in the New Year with my mother. With the new variant being even more infectious than the others, it just seemed to be the safest and most prudent thing to do.
Interestingly, when the ball dropped here in NYC, we both ruefully admitted that we didn’t feel all that hopeful. There are things to feel positive and good about — our health is good, we have food on the table, we can pay our bills. But there’s this sense of anticipating when the other shoe will drop; of not having too much hope because things will inevitably go bad. Admittedly, that’s probably the result of the past couple of years.
But if there’s anything to hope for it’s this: that this year brings peace, health, security for all. Happy New Year y’all. May this year be better than the previous two.