The other day I was reminiscing with my wife. We were sitting in our kitchen, ignoring the mounds of our Christmas booty that needed to be put away and may have had the cat buried underneath it for the chance to remember. We sat in our kitchen looking back through the years.
This time of year seems to bring out the nostalgia in both of us. On most days, the lucidity of my memories stops short at what I had for breakfast that particular morning but that night we were laughing and talking about all the New Year’s Eves we have had the fortune of spending together.
This will be our 14th New Year’s Eve. My wife commented to me about how it doesn’t seem that long. I told her it felt like 114 years. She promptly punched me and then continued our trip down memory lane.
Each year we went in and out of began the same way, each of us asking the other, “Do you remember…”. Each year we went in and out of ended with each of us shaking our heads in either disbelief or amazement about what we were able to remember. For example, I was more amazed about how much Jagermeister I used to be able to drink while my wife was more disbelieving of it.
We spent New Year’s Eves in other states, in run down motels, banquet halls, people’s houses we didn’t know, at restaurants typically too expensive to eat at, and in the comfort of our own homes.
As we climbed through the years, we realized our New Year’s Eves became less about copious amounts of alcohol, cover bands, and dancing shirtless on top of tables (me not her) and more about spending those nights…
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