New Year

Who can believe another year is already here, or that I'd be witnessing the dawning of 2013 from my son's bedroom window in Stockholm? Of course his room had the very best view of the fireworks that were lighting the sky all over our neighborhood, so S and I crept in at midnight after he'd already been sound asleep for hours (how is it that toddlers can sleep through extremely loud explosions and yet will catch any word you don't want them to hear when muttered as softly as possible under your breath?) and we pressed our faces to the glass of the French doors, watching the bursts of color in awe. Maybe S will deny feeling any sense of awe. I think he's more jaded about these sorts of things than I am. But no matter how many fireworks displays I watch, every single one inspires as much joy as the last. There are only a handful of things that propel me straight back to childhood, and fireworks are high on that list. For me, they are not just fitting at the new year because of their celebratory nature, but because I associate them with youth, with the promise of excitement, and with wonder.

I'm disappointed to admit that I didn't feel much of those things when it came time to make our big move in 2012. I don't think I've ever felt so old, being responsible (along with S) for all of those big decisions about travel and housing and the general logistics of moving to another continent, all with a two-year-old in tow who was completely reliant on us (and who was also very, very ill at the beginning of the move). I never felt more like a grown-up, which basically means that I don't think I've ever worried so much in my entire life.

The worry, and the pessimism, and the homesickness all kept me from feeling as excited about living here as I should have. I'd like to live my life with more excitement, with more wonder, which really shouldn't be too difficult with a toddler for whom almost anything is exciting and wonderful. For that's the kind of excitement I mean, the excitement and wonder of discovering or rediscovering something. It's the kind of feeling that is so easy to capture in childhood, and just as easily lost. I don't plan to discover the joys of downhill skiing or anything else potentially risky, thankyouverymuch. My plans are more low-key. Discover new places in Stockholm. Rediscover old pleasures like writing and language-learning. Let go of some of the worry and pessimism that hinder the general enjoyment of life. Goals like these are always easier said than done, but I hope that by saying them, I'm taking a step towards making them true.