If We Make It So ... Maybe The Last One

Well now, 2010 already! What to expect? What to promise? What to believe in? I was almost too enthusiastic on Facebook. The theme of my revelry was "If We Make It So" as I sought to invigorate and entice my virtual Friends. It was a little too much for them and although the prospect ultimately excited me .. I fear I left those who I sought to excite, a tad cold! Ah well.

I have 365 days left to digress and correct into a more subdued and perhaps subtle approach.

The day before the New Year was a testament to my continued ability to change course. So cold, it was, that I had decided to stay close and create around me the home warmth on which I thrive. An early trip to the grocery and libation store was entirely comfortable as I found out, afterward, that my timing for such visits was entirely on point. No lines. Happy Salespersons. Home. Groceries away and then a walk for the girls - in coats as it was cold. Around the bend, we went and as our energy was not spent, we decided to continue to a beloved neighbor who (regardless of our unannounced visit) welcomed us warmly into her home. A Barn Party invitation later, left I did with girls in tow.

On the understanding that I would leave my crimson velvet long frock on its hanger, I would be collected by the designated driver and then into a night of strangers, music, and dance. Would there be pigs, thought I? Undoubtedly. Being raised in the country I could think of nothing better than the warmth and ultimately familiar smell of the farm yard as I welcomed in this New Year.

After collecting other complimentary New Year guests we drove down a familiar road before, all of a sudden, veering off into a small lane. Over a bridge and around a bend before we came upon a red, brightly lit barn. We were among the first to arrive and as the rain began to fall we enjoyed a prime parking spot and then made our way under a canopy and in through the door. In return for verbal in-crowd validation, and $20, we received a stamp and were processed forward.

It was, indeed, a barn. But it was not just any barn. Walking in there were friendly aromas (green and wheatie) - friendly sights (festive and woody) - and friendly sounds (rich and bluesy). How delightful I thought, an atmosphere without attitude and entirely welcoming. And then my cell phone rang .... 

"How do you cook Salmon Mom? Where is the Teriyaki Sauce? Can we use the frozen broccoli?"

And with this interruption came the essence of home - one that had drifted over the familiar road and down the small lane. This essence swirled through the air and came up through my phone, landing gently in my mind. I disconnected. Looked around. Smiled. Redialed. It was time to go home.

And in the wee small hours of the morning, as I looked back over the evening I had no regrets. As I looked forward to the years ahead I knew that there would be plenty of time to attend New Year's Eve parties uninterrupted. Times when my phone would stay silent until the stroke of midnight when the beloved familiar voices would call to acknowledge the turn of the year. They would confirm just how much they missed me and wished we were all together. And I would smile and remember THIS New Year's Eve - the one, maybe the last one when in the twilight of their adulthood, my darlings wanted me home! Until this time next year, I will remain, a Merry Merliz