Another Year Older
I’ve been invited to another state this year for New Year’s Eve. Some of my friends will be renting out a bar–to keep the festivities private–and staying in a hotel afterward. It sounds like it’s going to be an incredibly good time, and I get the feeling folks are going to be telling stories about it for a good long while.
But I won’t be going. Instead, I’ll be home, bringing the new year in with my daughter. We won’t be drinking or screaming or dancing, and I won’t be feeling young or on fire with the world at my fingertips. No, none of that. We’ll just be coloring, baking, and maybe watching some tv.
There was a time when I would have been bothered by all that missing out. But not anymore. Somewhere along the way, “Dad” is who I became, and surprisingly, at least to me, I’m okay with that.