On Noticing and a New Year

Last night after dinner, Lily and I took a walk.  The sky was lit by the crescent moon and the air felt and smelled suspiciously of what is to come.  The truth is we're always on the cusp of something.  Every day is filled with beginnings and endings many of which we simply fail to notice.  I didn't want last night to end.  It was the end of my 45th year, and I wanted to give it some long overdue attention.  I needed to notice.  I'm an anticipation junkie, so for me all of the poignancy is in the build up. Knowing that I would wake to the beginning of a new year made everything brighter.  Not rose colored or golden, but rather clear and raw and sharp.  Luminous, penetrating and keen. It is at this point of simultaneously looking behind and ahead that I am best able to see clearly what is so often invisible to my lazy eye, or that which often goes unnoticed.

As we walked, we talked. Some of our topics were frivolous fillers, and others were thoughtful and weighty. Then for the last few blocks I suggested we stroll in silence.  That's a formidable challenge for an eleven year old so soon she decided she would sprint home as I took my time not hurrying a thing.  I watched her run away from me up the street thinking that time waits for no one.  I get another year older, summer sneaks into fall, another school year looms large - high school for my oldest this year - and I pledge to notice all of it.  Amen.