Time alarm clock went off: didn’t (I’m letting it take a vacation), time got out of bed: 11:17 a.m. (superb!), minutes spent worrying about school: 0 (zip, zilch, nada), minutes spent rejoicing over the free day stretching lazily before me: 6
It’s New Year’s Eve, 11:58 p.m. Still 2007. We’re lounging around, talking, listening to music, me and a couple of friends. “Hey guys,” I say, “maybe we should go watch the ball drop.” We spring up, jump into action, scramble around, looking for a TV, a remote, the right channel. We have two minutes, 120 seconds left of this year. It’s scary and refreshing at the same time. Another semester of school done, checked off. Another year passed, expired. A few more wrinkles steeped into skin, another fraction of an inch grown. At any other time two minutes would be nothing: a song played, a shoe tied, some teeth brushed. But here, now, it’s monumental. Two minutes, two measly minutes till 2007 is history. Two minutes till the future. 1:59, 1:58, 1:57, 1:56, 1:32, 1:09, 0:58. They’re going by too fast, these seconds. I want to reach out, grab them, toss them back where they belong. They’re racing away. 45 seconds, 43, 37. The people on the television are talking to each other, telling the world how blessed they are to be in New York, to have been able to play music with their friends on stage in front of waves and waves of people. Lucky you, I think. Do they wonder, those famous people with enough money to outfit an entire small country, how many people are placing their hearts, their trust in 2008, hoping, praying that it will bring a little less chaos, a heap more love? Do they realize that in less than 30 seconds, a phase of their life will be over, shut, closed?
I squeeze my eyes shut and wish that everyone will feel blessed, that this upcoming year will be a tad better than the last year for every single person, young, old, rich, poor, outgoing, shy, known, unknown. I send it off, flinging, flying, 12 seconds before the end of 2007. 10, 9, 8. “What’s going on?” I say. “Seconds normally take longer to tick, don’t they?” Too fast, much, much too fast. 6, 5, 4. I take a deep breath. I’m ready. Ready for 2008, ready to step forward, plunge into years that get shorter and shorter, ready to make a resolution, try for a while and then fade back into my old ways. That’s how it always is. 3, 2, 1. It’s over. 2007 is gone. Just like 2006 and 2005 and 2004. Just like all those other years lived by other people in other, older times. Outside, I hear fireworks, boom, boom. I imagine them, big, loud, sparkling red and green and gold up there with the stars. I wonder how fast the last seconds of 2008 will speed by next year. Will they be faster? Or will I have learned some way to slow down, savor, cherish?
