New Year's Day

It was hard to imagine celebrating New Year's last night. In the days leading up to it, I kept flashing to what the night would be like – walking by bars with people gathering outside to laugh and share cigarettes, standing in the middle of the party surrounded by people chatting and clinking glasses, bits of conversations flying by, at midnight strangers cheering and kissing – it sounded impossible. Last night came quietly and cold. There was suddenly no question whether to go to the party or to stay at home. By eleven-thirty I was already reading a magazine in bed. At midnight church bells started clanging outside. I woke up my love and kissed him, before turning back to my magazine, waiting for sleep. The only image that haunted me once the evening came, was of a family, sleeping together on the living room floor, the windows wide open to prevent them from shattering when the missiles fall, cold and darkness coming in from every direction. If I had any faith left in religion, I imagine this is when I would start praying, but because I don't, I just keep hoping and hoping everything will be ok.