When you seldom feel your feet out of cold and sometimes teeth makes cluttering sound ‘cause it gives up its strength to the breeze that rushes—moving the curtains—through the half open window of your room, when you are sleepless waiting under your blanket wearing warm clothes and socks for the sun to rise—you know the night is nearing to New Year.
It’s night again. Lights are out. Every home is sleeping. But some people don’t. I am awake and in my room, the seductive voice of ‘The Pentatonix’ is singing out ‘That’s Christmas to Me’.
Leaving another year behind, everyone is looking back into it. We are reflecting into the life that survived another year. Some have many good things to count on and some have many bad things to count on. That’s life.
It’s night again. Every home is sleeping though some are still awake. They may be waiting for their fathers, or husbands to be home after making them survive another day without much trouble. Some may be still in the streets pushing their carts or dragging their heavy garbage sacks to the shelter they call home. Some other may be half awake- half asleep, in their lucid dream about the sky they call the roof of their homes.
It’s really cold these nights. And having no clue why I am thinking all this, there is always something good about New Year. It brings back a lost hope in every hearts—in every have’s and have-nots’ little heart.
What is New Year to you? I wonder how different the answers would be.