The numbers on my cell phone change. 12 o’clock. Midnight. I step into my furry slippers and follow my parents out the back door and into the New Year.
Our yard is covered with several inches of snow. It’s beautifully fluffy snow, pristinely white. I shiver a little, the wind getting under my pajamas. But my sense of awe overcomes any physical discomforts I feel. I take a deep, awakening breathe, exhaling away all of the bad things that have happened in the last year. I erase all the petty disappointments and problems. Small potatoes, as my family says. I want to start 2012 fresh.
I stare up into the startlingly purple night sky and grin. I’m still grinning when a snowball hits me in the back. I jerk and look around. My dad’s hands are all wet and he is wearing a mischievous grin. Without missing a beat I scoop up a handful of snow and hurl it at him, ignoring my stinging, gloveless fingers. My mom gets in on the act too. Soon we are all trading snowballs, lunging around the yard and laughing into the muffled winter air. As I run around our enormous oak tree in pursuit of my dad, I’m struck by the pure perfection of the moment. The gorgeous sky and the perfect snow, the simple joy of being with my family. My dad throws one last snowball and turns toward the back door. My mother and I follow suit. I slip off my shoes and slip into bed. Happy New Year, Annie, I think.