I almost went to bed without writing but it feels symbolic that I write something on the first day of this brand new year.
The year was heralded with fireworks and firecrackers on our street and off in the distance of the city while Peter and I were stretched out watching a rented DVD of HBO's Bored to Death. Not exactly festive were we, but we wished each other "Happy New Year" and smiled. Ah, family life. We are completely devoted to the routine and schedule of raising this little boy named Donovan. And we are happy, but sometimes I do wish for a little taste of freedom and excitement and parties and people. At least we made it til midnight.
A half hour after midnight we got into bed and the fireworks on our street continued. A throng of teenagers ran down the street yelling to one another. As I lay in bed, colored light flashed on my wall, shaped like the outline of my window. For a few minutes, I felt transported out of Fishtown to a charmed room above the streets of some European city during carnival or an exotic place where people live and celebrate life fully.
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