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2009

I stand in the kitchen, beating eggs, folding in half-and-half, listening to a mother listen patiently to her child and mine both clamoring for her attention, trying to complete our ritual eggnog in time for our ritual drink at the stroke of midnight, knowing already that it’s hopeless, folding faster anyway. The Man stands next to me, blending eggs and soy milk in another bowl for our non-dairy-drinking friends, when he glances at the clock, and, as children bicker — oblivious — behind us, reaches to pull me against him and kisses me. “Happy New Year,” he says to me over the din, then, smiling still, goes back to stirring.

Such has been the essence of my life this year: surrounded by shrieking chaos, trying to make a life and make it on time, never quite managing it, and still — kisses at midnight, laughing children, and company I wouldn’t trade for the world. If all I can hope for for the next year is to do as well, it will be enough.

Welcome, 2010. I’m fond of you already.

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