Homebody - Jan 1 2022

 

Homebody

Jan 1 2022

I welcomed in the new year

by staying home.

Shortly before 12

I opened the door

and January slouched through

in a nimbus of arctic cold,

cocooned in winter gear

and clunky boots

banging off the snow.

No partying

because I'm not the party type,

a homebody

and unapologetic.

Or perhaps just older

and settled in my ways.

And I find something distasteful

about forced gaiety,

the false cheer

of this confected holiday;

since when do we celebrate

the turning of a calendar page?

And after Thanksgiving

and the excess of Christmas

haven’t we all had our fill

of special occasions?

Not to mention too much drunkenness

for my abstemious taste.

I had not resolved anything,

and the brand new month

gazed at me disappointedly.

I admonished it

to remove its boots and winter coat

then made a modest toast,

a small measure

of single malt Scotch

to inaugurate rebirth,

or at least reinvention.

We clinked glasses

wished the best

and turned in for the night,

hoping that in daylight

the world would also be new

and not just hung over.

Yes, the old year had run its course

and we'd been looking forward to this,

but it dawned cold and stormy

with a forecast for more.

Not bad, actually, for someone like me;

perfect weather

to snuggle up under covers

and hunker down at home.