The transition was kind of neat, yesterday evening all drained from the exertion of the previous day's skating excurions, curled up in blankets in a clean, empty house, the streets swathed so completely in snow as if nature herself was trying to cover up the pain we'd caused in the past year.
Waiting for the party to begin, fielding phone calls and wishing people things I'd've wished 'em anyway.
Then the partay, wearing a transparent blouse that I've owned for a year but that I haven't had the abs to wear until now.
Looks everywhere, but it got tiring.
Then dancing, and hugging, and watching the kids drink and downing cokes and falling into people's arms and beating up on Ninja-Shane...
I missed the countdown on the dance floor but it didn't really matter...
I got my kisses and fell into Ollie's arms and let the shivers reign as he tickled my back and Kaff was beautiful, tearing up the floor, and she called me a queen, draped across the chair that has been imprinted on every camera in the place...
And I thought of the carnival, queen of the carnival... Because I found an old love letter left me on my pillow from this summer while cleaning yesterday, thanking me... For understanding the carnival.
I miss that wistfullness, but I haven't forgotten it.
And Kaff is here, haunting me as I type, and my princess is experiencing her first hangover over on my couch, pointing out throbbing veins and the weak emptiness of her stomach.
And she is still shivering, and I'm exhausted from two beautiful, yet very drunk girls putting my arms to sleep all night.
Man, have those flannel sheets seen moments.
And I guess, so've I.
Namaste,
namaste --
this year is starting off just prettily.