It is the new year.

Dear New Year,

Instead of saying New Year, it is ON, as if we were challengers and this were a fight or a game or something similarly contentious, I am saying to you hello New Year, glad you're here.

This year as much as any year has made me think about how little control any of us has over matters large and small. Miss a phone call, and two hours later, upon receiving the message and returning the call, it's too late to talk to the caller, for she has slipped into a coma. Go to the doctor to see about shortness of breath, a few hours later find out that there's a serious aneurysm. Everything is so inexact, so unmatched up, so prone to slippage and accident. Yet here we are, another year, three desserts and countless snacks ready to be assembled, garnished and served at a party celebrating love and connection.

I still like to declare the new year, to make promises to it. So, to you, New Year, I promise that I will write more. I promise to take better care of my body and, with it, my soul and heart. I promise to enjoy my life and to pay attention to the people I love and care for.

That's all, really. I could say that I will play the piano every day, and maybe I will. Or that I will cook dinners four nights a week, which I am going to try to do. But I'm not going to promise. I am going to do those things as a way of enjoying my life--but maybe there will be some inexactitude, some slippage, and if I make too many promises it's too hard to keep any of them.

Write more, take care of my body, enjoy my life. I promise these.

The New Year, hello. I'm so glad you're here.

love,

hightouchmegastore

p.s. Special New Year Postscript to The People. One more specific promise: I'm going to blog every day in the year 2015. Somehow, I just feel it. I want to. So you can come here every day, and there will be something new for you. That's a hightouchmegastore promise, the people.