CORONA DEL MAR TODAY

New Years Blues

So many of my friends are welcoming 2010 with wide-open arms. They say they’ve had awful 2009s and simply can’t wait for the new year. Personally, I had a great 2009. But even in years that were too horrible to describe in this newspaper — I was never happy to celebrate the passing of time.

I have a very vivid early memory of discussing time with my older brother. We were looking at a new dollhouse trunk I had received, and it said 1873 or something on it. I asked what on earth that meant, and he said it was a year.

“When will it be 1873, then?” I asked. (I was probably about 5 years old.)

“Never,” he said. “It’s gone. It’s over.”

From that moment, I felt like a speck. As I grew older, I began to dread New Years Eve. Others would bang on pizza pans, set off firecrackers, cheer on kazoos, throw streamers, hoot and holler, get drunk on champagne and wear stupid hats. I want to be happy, too. I love to find excuses to pop open a bottle and have fun. I’m the social chair of my alumni group — I am not usually all emo and negative.

This time of year, though, I can’t fight it. Another year — so much I didn’t get done, so much I lost, so much I will never have again. Babies, a year older. My life, a year gone. Where does time go? Why didn’t I do more with it? How much more will I get?

I realize this is a huge downer, which is why I stay at home on Dec. 31. I can barely stand myself. But thankfully, it doesn’t last. By January 1, I’m fine. I love fresh starts.

It’s funny that I can’t see it that way through all the confetti.