I welcomed the New Year in the company of old close friends and acquaintances, bonded by this biennial gathering in Saratoga Springs, NY. I was coming off a refilling week in Georgia with my family, despite going to bed late and waking up with the sun. We stayed up until 4AM playing Clue with my sister, brother-in-law, and their friends! Their children were all asleep in various piles in the living room while we feverishly tried to figure out who, where, and with what.

This year started with no less anticipation or genuine excitement for a clean slate, however manufactured, mental, or arbitrary. So here we are, starting again. Not sure how we ended up with a new year after the last one had seemingly just begun, but isn't that the mark of getting older? Mike and I were watching Friends the other night (on Netflix! We're in the future!), and Chandler said something about being 29 and not being ashamed of enjoying going to bed earlier than he did at 21. (Though he mentioned nothing of still having roommates at almost-30?) The last time I watched this show, I was in high school, unable to imagine ever being 29, let alone ever being on the cusp of 29, living with my boyfriend of four years, my college days getting ever smaller in the rearview. So many people made jokes about it being the year of the hoverboard, but it is a little strange to be here. We are living the future that had always felt too far to dream about. What does it look like? What will it look like? Hopefully not just a speck to the girl five years from now, in a winter far ahead and just around the corner.

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