It’s New Year’s Eve, the last seconds of it, and the countdown is beginning. Around me, thrumming through my ears, the numbers start, and I close my eyes.
The new year. A time to put aside the old one, to forget all you were and embrace all you can be. I absentmindedly hook my thumb into my waistband as I watch the fireworks, my posture slumping, my hand warm from residual body heat.
The house blew down last year – Sandra, or Pelemina, or Kerry, something like that. I’m in a neighbourhood I don’t know, pretending to celebrate with people who have only let me into their home through politeness, no real feeling. Jason left after a series of screaming rows about how I’d never change, how I could never improve. I dyed my hair black because I felt like it. I had to change my name after… well, you saw what happened. For my own safety, for my family’s.
What is there left to change for 2013?
I like being someone new. I think I’ll try it again next year.
So I think about the constants.
About my breath, the inhales and exhales still happening
and body heat
and new starts, again and again.
Still here. Still breathing. Still waiting…