New Year's always reminds me of the time when I was around 6 to 9 years old. On New Year's eve, my parents would get all dressed up and then drop me off at my grandmas. I'd show up with my little bag and a favorite stuffed animal, smelling ever so slightly of Shalimar. The dust from my mother's atomizer.
I may have already been in my pajamas when I was dropped off.
Never miss a local story.
Then I'd begin the long 4 hour or so wait for the ball to drop on TV.
My grandma would offer to teach me to crochet, but I wasn't much interested. Instead, we'd sit and make pom-poms. I liked winding the yarn around the cardboard circles and I had many, many polyester pom poms of all shapes and sizes. Their shared gene pool was in their color. My grandma had a strong perference for yarns that were dyed many colors along one strand. Red, white, blue. Dark blue, light blue, white.
We ate Neapolitan ice cream. We stood on her balcony and listened for sounds of nearby celebration.
Then I'd situate myself in front of the TV.
I believe it was much harder back then for kids to stay up. With only three TV channels, cartoons limited to Saturday mornings and the word "tween" un-yet concocted, there wasn't much to keep you awake.
I always fell asleep around 10. Maybe her, as well.
I would wake up in the morning, carpet dents on my cheek, vowing to stay awake the next year.
Happy New Year all! Health, happiness and all other good stuff in 2012.