Hello, fragile new year!

Barely a day old, you already carry too much baggage. I wonder, looking at you through the grey fog of an abnormally warm winter day, if you even have a chance. You carry so much future we don’t want. How can we love you? How can we be hopeful? How can we raise our glasses and say Happy New Year without sounding delusional? Maybe, the trick is finding new definitions of happiness, over and over and over. Maybe, it is believing that with all the unwanted future you also carry the seeds of good and wonderful things that are worth waiting and striving for. Maybe, it is remembering that good life is not the absence of sorrow, but the resilience of joy.

So, I raise my glass to you, 2025. We can make it. We will get mad, but not despair. Not for long, anyway. We will make mistakes. We will keep each other close. We will celebrate every good moment. We will live in the present and make it as good as we can. We will rest. We will remember that our ancestors have survived so that we can have this time. Happy New Year!