This New Year's Eve

Previously published on www.yellowbrick.me

This New Year's Eve, you are six and your brother is 3 1/2.  Your mom is 39 and your dad is 47.  We will all be here together tonight , but unlike last year and the year before, we've decided to celebrate this one without any hoopla.  This year will be just us.  Our family, in our house.  I may do some clean up of toys and perhaps even some vacuuming, but there will not be the chaotic straightening up that comes when people are coming over.  I have done the dishes, so that we can begin defiling them again when your father gets home from work.  I have warmed the extra room, so that we can all be together on the same floor as your dad and I cook, and that is probably all I will do right now.  I have thought about putting up decorations, and perhaps we will do that in a bit, but right now, I am enjoying the quiet.  The end of this year deserves quiet.
It has been a tumultuous year in some ways, and yet, looking back, I cannot put my finger on any one thing that happened.  We were in many ways, just us, a family, firmly ensconced in the middle class of a wealthy state in a relatively well off nation.  We hit some financial bumps, where we questioned the way we were choosing to live, and while your dad and I got a bit snarky with one and other, we did not let it rock us.  I have faith that your father will keep my accounts balanced in all ways figuratively and literally, and I reminded him of that when he needed it.  I have faith in him.  I have faith in us.  There were days when I worried about you as you passed milestone after milestone.  But, while relishing in each new success, your first soccer trophy, your first lost tooth, chapter books begun, and math equations finished, you didn't let a single disappointment mar your day.  You have found your stride, and I am in awe of your pace as you wind your way through this life.  I could spend time worrying about your brother's smash 'em bash 'em lifestyle, but I have chosen to seek comfort in his morning and evening snuggles, and his silliness.  He is quick like his big sister, learning his ABC song, and recognizing more numbers and letters every day.  He is very much three years old with his temper and his attempts to control the world around him aggressively, but he is also filled top to bottom with love for his family, and hugs and kisses, and quick "I love you" check ins, when he can't find one of us.  As they were and are for you, his transgressions are easy to forgive.  He would follow you anywhere, and you must remember this as you and he will be each other's touchstones throughout your lives.  You will always be his first idol.  Be careful with him.  He is more fragile than he appears.  We all are.
Outside of our family, things were more driven by confusion and chaos.  This is one of the reasons I am happy to put up our family shield, enclose us in our bubble and ignore the rest.  There has been unrest everywhere I looked this year, and while I can't and won't shield you from it, we have kept it from you for now.  Friends have gotten sick, and gotten better.  Families have dissolved, and ties have weakened.  My understanding of our small and larger world seems to grown foggier.  There is so little clarity in the violence of our cities and suburbs.  I pose question after question, and find no answers. But if there is any lesson I can take away from this year, is that it all comes down to where you choose to lay your faith.  It seems to me the safest place to put it, is in the people you hold close, but never all in one person's hands.  Because some will misuse it.  Some will get greedy with it, assuming it can not be destroyed.  But faith is tenuous at best.  It must be cradled, and often rocked.  It must be soothed when need be.  It must be reminded that the one who holds it is deserving.  It is a precious gift.
So my beautiful daughter, this New Year's Eve, place your faith in me, and your father, but not only in us.  Give some to the magic of your world.  I am jealous of your forceful belief in the tooth fairy and Santa, but I am also jealous of your passionate faith in the adults of your world.  You have given your teachers, and your parents and your grandparents the gift of being superheroes in your life.  So, here's to your faith in all those around you.  May we all regain a bit of it just by being near you this year, and may we all remain deserving of it always.