When I had to make a reservation for NYE and could only get a 4:30 time slot, I didn’t bat an eye. Cue the age jokes. Little did I know, I would wake up that morning with a touch of what I have self-diagnosed as food poisoning from the bolognese I had had the night before. At first I thought I was fine, however the further we drove in the car for our Saturday on the Cape, the closer I wanted to be to the bathroom. We stopped at CVS, I hunted the bright pink Pepto, and we returned back to our cute hotel room. Thomas, assuming that I would never be in shape to rally for dinner, let me rest while he went and had himself some chimichangas, chips, and salsa. 8 Pepto Bismol tablets, 3 and a half trips to the bathroom, and one nap later I was ready and hungry for the early bird special at Osteria La Civetta. Thomas, unfortunately, was still digesting lunch. “The will is strong in this one.” I told him, particularly when homemade pasta is involved. He chuckled and admitted that I truly did have a strong streak of Mary in me. I think I get my stomach from Dad though, he could always make room for more food. He once finished off a gluttonous Thanksgiving meal with a Sam Adams and a piece of cheesecake at the end of the night and blamed his upset stomach on the “smoked turkey” the next day. Yeah, OK Dad. Sure. I blamed my stomach on the bolognese but it probably was the hundred other things I had consumed leading up to that. The key to true happiness is self-awareness and a reckoning with that self I say. Did I mention I got a family membership to the Y? It’s about time.
After rallying for dinner last night, we decided to ditch the bars and revelry for the record player our room came with featuring vinyls of Bob Marley, Harry Belafonte, The Endless Summer soundtrack, The Beach Boys, and Elvis’ Blue Hawaii. On the edge of the ocean, I am always tempted to dive in no matter how cold. I entertained the idea of a polar plunge but my laziness stopped me. Plus, what was I trying to prove? Toughness? I already did that by showing up for dinner. In that moment, all that mattered was that I was where and with whom I wanted to be, embracing the wintry sting of a year’s death and a new one’s birth. “Any resolutions?” Thomas asked me. I hesitated to answer; a resolution seems like somewhat of an untruth, a promise that I most likely won’t keep. But, I admitted I had gotten the Y membership and that I wanted to achieve both financial and physical health. I’ve worked so hard on the mental and spiritual pieces but those two stragglers have haunted me for years and it’s about time I got off that merry-go-round of stagnation. I am a good daughter, mom, teacher, friend, girlfriend, sister, and human. I deserve more stability in those departments so I’m going to get it, come hell or high water. Mark my words.
Around 9 on New Year’s Eve, as Thomas and I settled in early with no intention of being awake for midnight, I got a text from our neighbor asking if everything was OK. I knew right away that was not a good sign. “What’s going on?” I asked her. She called to tell me that an ambulance had come and gone but left without sirens blaring which was good. I immediately called my sister Barb who had been hanging with Mom for the night. Long story short, Mom’s fine, getting admitted with a little edema and higher blood pressure than we’d like. She hasn’t been feeling great all week, the holidays come with them a ton of stress and this being her first without Dad, we chalked a lot of it up to that. But, as the week progressed, we all have quietly worried and wondered if something more was going on. She is a lung cancer survivor with COPD, poor circulation, and a host of other health mishaps. These bumps and blips are all part of that, she forges through them a lot like I approached dinner last night. No doubt she’ll come home with new orders that she will balk at, likely oxygen for the house, and maybe some new medications. She’ll also be annoyed with me for writing this, “telling the whole world our tales of woe” she’ll say. That’s what you get for birthing a writer living through some of the richest stories of her life.
My stomach is still gurgling, sounding a lot like a bowling alley as my brother-in-law Dave has described. I have a delicate masala chai that he got for me from an Indian market he frequents, it is the perfect liquid for my soul today. As we drove home from the Cape, Thomas looked at me and asked “Are you writing?” He has gotten used to the faroff look I get when my brain goes into creative mode. “Can you tell?” I said. I was looking at the curls of brown leaves clinging to all the oaks among the scrub pines that speckle our state’s beloved beach destination. “My mind is going in a million different directions—work, home, my Mom, the kids, dinner tonight…” I listed out all the reasons why I had fallen silent. “Feeling a little melancholy?” he asked me. “No, not really. We had a really good week, a lot of quality time off and a renewed desire to reign things back in for 2024.” But, I’ll admit, sitting here now alone in the house I feel that melancholy sneaking in. I’m worried about Mom. Christmas was hard on her. Although I often tell you all how much she can be a royal pain, I can think of no human quite as amazing as she. A force of nature that cannot/will not be ignored. I know things will be fine, they always are. “2023 was a hard year for you.” Thomas told me. I don’t think I had quite realized how hard it was until he said that. “Yes.” I admitted. I was comforted by having been seen, a weight lifted. Although I may not be aware of what troubles you are carrying from this previous year, I can tell you that today is neither perfect nor a blank slate. Those same troubles are still there, aren’t they? What is different about today is that it delivers a nudge for change, much like a parent stopping by and gently telling you to get your shit together. Here’s to you (and me) doing just that. And, if I can suggest you do anything in the New Year—buy yourself a record player and marinate in albums for evenings in rather than going going going all the time. This album in particular is solid: