In her witching hour, she finds me silent and dead inside.
I collect the glasses from the table, musing about how every party finds a broken bottle somewhere. The thoughts barely leave through the back door of my mind as a bottle of root beer slips from my mother's hands, scattering glass everywhere. A deep red spot wells up on the sole of my foot.
2008 was quite possibly, the best year of my life. A new start to law school, a new programme, a sense of home growing deep in within my heart. New friendships, new spaces. And then there's Asia: my home, my sense of being, the giver of my life, my identity and purpose. India, where I loved and let love, where I hated and learned to hate myself, and then healed, where Glen promsied to love me forever, and I found heaven on an earth spinning within its own hell. And then family, (who made me swear that I wouldn't blog about them) - of Prague and Frankfurt and 7 hour busrides, pasta and 2 am conversations laughing about our reality tv shows, for letting me laugh at them.
2008 died quietly. Mostly because of fleeting pensive thoughts that, while momentary, pressed me deep into my bedsheets. Deeply.
Hello 2009. You were birthed in restlessness. You bring pensive thoughts. You will not be as warm as 2008, but you will be strong and good and pure. You will teach me many things, and I will be ready for you.