The Glimpse of a Promise
They flood my television screen as the hour nears midnight. Variegated hives of revelers swarming the streets of iconic cities - arms pumping the air, faces split open in joyous grins. No one is immune to the palpable excitement that builds as the numbers fall - ten, nine, eight - into a mad frenzy now keeping time to the fireworks popping outside my own window. It is a universal excitement that almost takes form - swelling out, stretching up, reaching back, branching forward - sprouting hope and desire that flower almost before our eyes into goals and ambition; a great rolling tide of optimism that gathers us all up and leads us, singing, into a new year.
Here, we share a quiet kiss.
A dog’s head gets a tousle.
Thus, we pass another waypost on our journey through time.
We turn a corner.
We start off anew.
Prone to contemplation, I am sitting by the window in thought when I hear my name called. The Songwriter has accompanied Edward and Apple on their bedtime ramble out in the back garden and I am being summoned to join them. I wrap a shawl round my shoulders and head outside to the dark.
“Look up”, he says, smiling.
And I do, into a sky of navy blue, speckled over with winking stars.
“Yes, it’s lovely”, I say.
“Keep looking”, comes his reply.
And then I see it.
Skimming across the canvas of night like the spark from a magic wand, a hope made manifest, a visible dream encircling the stars.
A shooting star.
“I saw one, and now you’ve seen one too. Good omens, I should think”.
We wait a while longer, but no more flash above us.
Just two.
Just for us.
We reach down and pat the dogs sitting silently at our feet.
One white, one black. Both dear.
We four follow each other back inside to the warmth, knowing whatever this untested year has up its sleeve we may hold fast to the glimpse of a promise that soared through the sky on its very first night.
Happy New Year indeed.
