For years, I’ve bypassed the whole “holiday card” thing and just went for New Year’s cards. Wishing people a good new year carries no religious overtones or expectations, nor does it get lost in the flood of cards with their mixed messages of mangers, wise men or more benign snow men, candy canes or snow flakes. Instead people assume you just can’t get your act together before the holiday, which is fine by me as it’s usually true.
In the center, there’s us caught kissing for the cameras in Paris. We’re in front of La Tambour, a place we mention in the book. It’s sentimental for us for so many reasons, not only because it’s just a half block from where we lived in Paris while I studied at Le Cordon Bleu.
But there are so many photos, so many things that you can’t put on a card. I look at those that come in the mail and I wonder. How do you sum up a year in a card? Mike’s father passed away. I realized that my mother was not going to live forever. The debate about kids became a serious, immediate discussion as opposed to a hapless “someday.” A friend died, others had babies. Life, so cyclical, continued onward.
I want to have a list of resolutions that mean something. I’m still working on it.
Meanwhile, I’ll sign off as we did on our card. Eat well, drive safe and be kind to everyone.