A new year

It may have been the booze, causing the waves in my brain to swim but whatever it was, there was a sudden urge to stand outside.  In the very freezing cold early hours of the morning.  On my snow covered front porch.  It wasn’t so unusual, I’ve felt the pull to be outside in unfriendly weather before.  But it was the first moments of a very new year and I needed to breathe that air.

What do you want? A voice asked, the voice that pops up on occasion to ask the questions that I ignore.

There’s something about the prospect of starting over, of getting a second (third, twentieth…) chance not to do it again but to continue without the mocking of the past year pulling at your heels.

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I can’t seem to find a name for her.  I don’t that she is even a her, she could be a him, and then I could have to find a new name altogether.  Then there’s the whole notion of keeping her.  It seems easy, at first, taking on the responsibility of another life – she’s just a tiny little cat.   But she’s so tiny, skinny, young.  She needs me and she’s terrified of everything.

I took her downstairs, wrapped a blanket around myself and laid on the couch.  She purred and walked up my chest, to the crook of my shoulder and flopped her tiny body down.  I thought perhaps she was just getting comfortable but within a few moments she was fast asleep, twitching and dreaming pressed up against my collarbone.

How can you not instantly feel love?

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It’s subtle, this climbing out.  Being in the hole, even just a little ways down, can always be scary.  But this is the first, the very first time that I have ever looked myself square in the eye and acknowledged what was happening.  No denial, no bullshit.

My resolutions for this year aren’t absolute because they take shape as things change.  But every year, probably for the rest of my life, they will always come in some form of wishing for peace, calm, happiness and love, all encompassed in balance and health.