In the time leading up to this New Year’s Eve, as usual, I felt a sort of resentfulness towards all the impending excess: all the drunk dolled up people, all the unnecessary expensive fireworks, all the noise and the waste afterwards in every street of every city.
But as it happens, the experience itself once more overturned my initial grumpiness. When the clock struck midnight, I stood at my attic floor window and marvelled at all the lights and colours outside like a child. There were so many in every direction, the air was filled with the shrill sounds of rockets and firecrackers, the night sky illuminated again and again by short-lived magnificent showers of radiant lights. For a blissful moment, I felt very much at peace; once again, for the first time in a long while, feeling very much a part of the society I happen to have been born into, feeling very much a part of this contingent community of humans that revels in the tradition of greeting each and every new year with an explosion of noise and shimmering lights, again and again, without questioning it. We do this because it simply is the kind of thing we like to do, and it is beautiful. That’s enough, and it feels warm and sound when it is enough.
“We are one, we are alive”
Death Cab for Cutie – Codes and Keys
Bonus: My Dad is a Kid