Noise makers, bits of colored paper floating and flinging,
cookies, candies, and cakes. Enough sugar to make many parents cringe. When
you’re young you invite everyone you can find, maybe because you think more
people will be more fun, maybe to get more presents. But your short hoard
descends on pizzerias, bowling alleys, and various other locations. Then, as
you get older, the numbers dwindle down to perhaps a dozen, sometimes even
noisier, thanks to alcohol, but more than a few trade in colored paper and
chaos for fine food and a quiet night around the table. To each their own, each
year. Candles are lit, songs are sung, badly, and your own personal new year
begins.
As a kid it’s a time of pandemonium. As an adult it’s a day
to be selfish, get and do whatever you want. It’s an excuse to party, though
who needs or waits for one. The best parties are when the mood strikes you and
good cheer floats through the air like a red wine, banishing thoughts of work
and responsibility to the cold and dark office where it will have to wait until
tomorrow.
Turn up the music, raise such a clatter, and let the games
begin.
