Ice cold embraces the world around here. The snow remains cleanly white, the steps coated clear and slick.The old year fled, the new year creeps in. But is it really a new beginning? Is it not just the next day and the next day? We lay out patterns on Time as though we held the reins.
In December I went to a wedding in Miami. The groom made a similar point in poignant vows: the ceremony did not mark the beginning, for their love already was, is, and had been. Julian Barnes, in A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters, argued that love was our only weapon against the inexorable roll of history over our lives. Time eating us up. But we can stop for this present moment and hold another dear. Happy New, Old Year.
Sunset after storm on Biscayne Bay
Sunrise the next morning