Just a year ago, I was spending New Year festivities with my sister in a loft apt primely situated in Hollywood. Just twelve months ago, I had no obligations to anyone but myself and my then-boyfriend who loved me for the crazy spazz that I am.
We started that night off with a quiet dinner and some good wine. I remember trying to find something to wear that even remotely spelled out New Years with glitter, gold, or something mildly slutty. I had to settle for a zip-up dress with boots. That was my hipster version of New Years debauchery. I remember climbing into my cousin's z3 and sitting in (what else?) L.A. traffic for about an hour when we could've walked faster in our tight-ass dresses and mile-high shoes.
My friend Mike (who was so kindly hosting us) offered us champagne and hors d'oevres when we arrived. I called Alex and wished him a drunken Happy New Year. He was well on his way towards fulfilling that goal as he sloshed his drink around with buddies in an East Village pub.
Surreal is the only word to describe it. For the past year, I had been living in my Upper West Side, subletting an apartment from Mr. I-haven't-decorated-for-25-years (Hideous, I tell you! Wooden cats and floral prints galore). During that year, I had met and fallen in love with my fiance, coped with the stresses of my job, and traversed to Europe for the summer. I had stepped on and off a plane/train at least a dozen times around the world. Yet, here I was, sipping champagne in the other metropolis, the arid wasteland of Joan Didion's Play It As It Lays (still one of my favorite books) and looking at the ball drop in my beloved New York, with a deep desire to kiss my love and instead settling on clanking glasses with a long lost friend.
"Happy New Year!" Alex says amidst a roar of chaos beyond the phone. I shout, "Happy New Year too!" but suddenly feel as though I was screaming across the ocean. He feels so far away and I suddenly want to whisk myself off to his side. I think it was at this moment that I realized how much I love him.
Dec 31, 2008, Midnight. Just a week before I became pregnant. I can't fathom how it was only a year ago. I pinch myself this New Year's, as I look at my 3 month old child and realize that we've created, birthed and are raising this little person. Goodness, we are parents. As I say this, I hear my little hellion roar. I'm off. The days of sipping champagne are on hold, but I guess there are worse things than looking at your baby, fulling understanding the deep, unrelenting love of motherhood, and kissing the creases on her chubby little wrists.