A New Year, A Fresh Start

The Boston Globe

2009, I hardly knew ye. You came and went. You blew in on the heels of Christmas last year and now you are making your exit. A whole year — 365 days. Where did you go?

I see on my calendar, first days, then months crossed off. I lived these days, months, and seasons, but I hardly remember them. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Holidays. Appointments. Commitments. I keep a journal, recording what I do. But even there, I cannot find a fraction of all the hours gone by.

It's like money spent, a pocketful of bills gone. What did they buy?

My grandchildren are a year older and a year wiser. I can see this. Lucy and Adam are kids, not babies anymore. Charlotte is talking in sentences. Megan is talking nonstop. And we had another one, Luke Robert, my son's son, born last March.

My friend Beth's son got married. Elizabeth was born. And baby Tommy. My son went back to work after staying home with his baby daughter and being Mr. Mom for a year. And my husband and I went to the Galapagos Islands and had the best vacation ever. When you're a child looking back at a year, there is so much detail that stands out. A box of Valentine chocolates, a gift from a favorite uncle. A red wool sweater that you loved and your mother bought. The odd, plastic smell of gimp tree trimming. Lime Rickeys. Angel hair on a Christmas tree. These things loom. 

But when you're an adult, summer, fall, last year, the year before — they blend. Last December, which does not feel like 12 months ago, I vowed that in 2009 I would go to the gym three times a week, no exceptions, no excuses. This didn't happen. I said I would walk with my friend Beth every day. We used to walk even in the worst weather. We'll do it again this year, we promised. But this didn't happen either, though we still keep telling each other it will. Tomorrow, we say. Next week, definitely.

A year goes by in tomorrows and next weeks.

I promised that I would go to the movies once a week. I love the movies. My husband loves the movies. We'll do this, we said. And we meant to.

So why didn't we go? Excuses, excuses. Because the movie we wanted to see wasn't playing nearby. Because it was too cold or too hot, too early or too late. Because we can watch movies On Demand, we said. But we didn't watch these movies, either. 

I said I would read a read a book a week and keep a record, the way my friend Anne does. I did read some great books — Birds in Fall, The Book Thief, The Help, the entire Twilight series — but I didn't get close to a book every seven days. And as for writing down the names and authors and what the books were about? It didn't happen.

I swore to my husband, who is used to talking to me over a tall pile of books, that for every new one I brought into the house I would take two already-read books out, and give them to friends or to the library. And I did this sometimes. But there are still books piled high everywhere.

I wanted so much to be a better friend and visit people — Ruthie and Lois and Nancy and Sheila. This was something I knew I would do in 2009. Now 2009 is taking its final bow and I haven't visited yet.

The year flew by like a vacation week, most of it anyway. Not the time spent at airports and on airplanes. And not the time waiting for news — will it be good or will it be bad?

I thought I would manage my e-mail in 2009 and answer in the order that the messages came in. I thought I would pay bills promptly and not let the photos that I have printed stack up.

I thought I had time. It was only January. Then it was February. Then it was August and then it was Christmas and now the year is gone. Three hundred and sixty-five days. 2009. Over. 

Now it's 2010, a new year, a new decade, a new beginning and one more chance to get things right.