The city at night holds an unexpected civility. The dark and dreary areas that present themselves during the day are masked by a blanket of the night making even the most unspeakable of places appear alluring. It is New Year’s Eve, and as the hundreds of people board the tram and arrive at their destinations, I sat in my bed with a glass of merlot. Andy lay nuzzled under a fur blanket, already in a deep sleep. I climbed into bed wearing my favorite sweat pants and a university of Harvard sweatshirt. I was twenty minutes into Rear Window before my phone became a distraction. Buzzing from my dressing table, the light of the screen illuminated the dark. Reaching over and picking up my phone, I noted two messages from Owen. My pulse quickened with the name and I carefully slid open the message.
I took another sip of my wine and sat back.
Owen played a prominent role for me in 2016, for he was, in fact, one of the best parts of it. Despite the distance at hand, Owen showed me that I could once again feel for someone else and that I was strong enough to move on. Owen came like a tidal wave, an unexpected entity that entered my life with both composure and grace. With an ease of entry, he left the same, acting as a dozen daggers piercing my veins. In truth, I did miss him, as he actively represented a part of me that grew in 2016. Like any great attraction, a barrier is put in place. I am not one to fall for the star-crossed lovers literary bullshit, for there was no Romeo and Juliet story to tell, the separation came mentally and physically – The distance elevated by more than just oceans and planes, but cell service and proper connection.
I think back to a warmer climate and ocean breezes
Owen comforts me. Through kind words and sympathy, I am brought back to reality. He shows me the beauty of the world from the other side; opposite of me, we make conflicting time zones work towards our advantage.
Seated with my back pressed up against a palm tree I listen to the crickets chirp in the distance. The palm trees lineup forming a runway down this California street. The trees are almost whimsical, Californian guards patrolling the road.
“Let’s forget about being human and decide to become celestial beings, not bound to our mortal barriers. Free to move in whichever direction we want to go, and do whatever we want to undertake
You deserve that, to not be bothered by the past and to experience life in the way you want to; You deserve to be a celestial divine body.”
My heart loses its ability to beat. Swayed by such intricate words that I am hooked.
2016 was a year of change, a monumental movement towards political stupidity in addition to individual understanding. With a new year comes a new sense of responsibility, a fresh opportunity to act with due diligence to oneself. Maybe I have been watching one too many episodes of Law and Order, or maybe I am onto something. While it is not sensible to believe that a new year will black out any failure or immediately inspire some fucked up form of self-discovery, but a new year does allow for greater achievement, the chance to do more and be more than the past. I find that there is nothing duller than redundancy, the familiarity of a particular environment that one fears to stir the pot or to ignite change. I think in both interpersonal relations and on a social scheme, it may be wise to make 2017 the year of IDGAF (I Don’t Give a Fuck).Instead of a “new year, new me” mantra, I might give “new year, moderately new me” a try. In truth, we all have very little to lose, so why not take the risk?
Tossing aside hesitations, I I typed out a message and hit send. Zero expectations, no strings attached. The feeling of immense gratitude and excitement from this surprise communication came over me. To me, Owen was more than a moment, Owen was more than a season, for Owen had immense meaning. This year presented an eclectic mix of both negatives and positives – take with them how you may, 2016 was definitely a year of surprises.
As the ticking of the clock counts down the new year, I wait silently. The countdown begins, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 17, It is officially midnight in Toronto. My mind races through old photographs, desolate sunsets, Asia to Amsterdam, and bodies shaking with every touch, and kiss, a new jolt to life brought forward by a mind-altering epiphany. I slick my hair back and stare out the window, remnants of the last snow fall linger on my window pane. Life seemed to slow down and move at a normal pace. I put my phone back on the dressing table and resumed my film.