Here’s tae us. Promises / made to be broken, made to last.
There have been many rituals.
In Trinidad, pig foot souse at midnight; scotch and coconut water; the kinds of friends you make once, if you’re lucky.
In London, young, energetic, out late, loud music, dreading the inevitable night bus to follow.
In New York, variously: haggis enjoyed with Scotsmen in kilts reciting Robert Burns; twelve grapes eaten at lightning speed in the company of Colombians; in various apartments, swaddled in comfort, with or without champagne, watching a ball drop accompanied by the dutiful screams of a freezing cold crowd; in St. Bart’s, crying to organ music; once, on a roof top, burning wishes for the new year.
At other times, in other places, alone, asleep, at peace.
I enter this new year not irresolute but certainly without resolutions. Not lacking in resolve but lacking in surety. Aiming, instead, for an open-hearted curiosity.
An absence of conviction; a willing suspension of disbelief (for the moment). The presence, as it were, of possibility.
Onward.
Attribution
Remember, the time of year
when the future appears
like a blank sheet of paper
a clean calendar, a new chance.
On thick white snow
You vow fresh footprints
then watch them go
with the wind’s hearty gust.
Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises
made to be broken, made to last.
— Promise by Jackie Kay