The Day Before New Year's Eve

Today is December 30th, 2010.

Tomorrow is the last day of the year.

Always, before, there has been an impatience, an excitement to the realization that another year was just around the corner. A new year.

But right now, this week, even the last month, I have been wanting to put it off the newness and keep with the comfort of the old for a little while. Wanting to lengthen the hours, to stretch them and savor their moments a little longer than usual.

I don't know why I'm feeling this way - to be honest, this has not been my best year by any method of accounting. For several months there, I was convinced it was my worst, not that many people knew about that season of my life... But no, there is nothing firm or fixed that I can point to and say, "Yes, THIS is why I'm not ready for 2010 to end."

I'm just not... I feel... Unprepared. I rather wish, at this moment, that there was a month *between* December and January, just so that I could take the time to prepare. We could call it "Decembruary." Or "Janucember." Or something completely random, like "Procrastination." Or pull an Edward Lear and create a word just for that month, like "Cranowobblerism."

But no, as the old saying goes, time stops for no man - or in this case - no woman. So march the seconds, the minutes, the hours, ever forward, and unlike us humans, they turn around and look back at what has  been, they are only forward-facing, in the here, in the now. There is no introspection beyond the moment.

And maybe, that is how we're supposed to be. But we get too caught up in our past mistakes (ME!!), our past hang-ups, our PAST, that we stop looking forward and long for the momentum to end, to slow, to stop. So that we can do nothing but look and analyze and re-analyze what has been, rather than filling the space that IS.

So here, now, I make this resolution: I will savor the hours tomorrow, the last day of December, the last day before the tides of 2011 come rolling in, and then... I will make it, as in the words of Ann Voskamp, "The Year of Here." I will work hard to be me, and fill the space that is, rather than those of has been and will be.