An ode to a quiet new year’s eve
New Year’s Eve of Youth
I spent a large portion of my adolescence yearning for a sexier, more exciting New Year’s Eve than the ones I was used to. I’d typically spend New Year’s Eve by myself, in my bedroom, watching whatever TV special was on that year- probably something hosted by Ryan Seacrest with performances from the Disney Pop Princess of the moment. Truly, at the heart of this yearning is the fact that I am just a girl. What is more romantic, more poetic than the idea of wearing something sparkling with your friends, kissing strangers, dancing through confetti covered streets all because you managed to live through another 365 days? The very premise of a New Year’s Eve celebration was made for the girls! Fizzy drinks! Sequins and glitter! Drunk laughter and hugs! God, sixteen year old me totally would have van Gogh’ed her left ear for just a second of that kind of feeling at that kind of party.
The true King and Queen of New Year’s Eve.
New Year’s Eve of Yore
(Ok by “yore” I really mean like five or six years ago, I’m just dramatic for the flavor.)
When I moved to Chicago in 2017, I finally got to have my dream New Year’s Eve moment. That December, Kyle and I teamed up with our downstairs neighbors at the time, to throw a “Double Decker” New Year’s Eve party. I am still finding confetti from this party in our dining room years later. It was everything I ever wanted. So many people we loved came, our apartment was filled to the brim with laughter, screaming excitement, and champagne flutes. We’d go on to throw this New Year’s Eve party for the next five years, each one having a specific theme, like 1920’s glamour, or Neon Cowboy. Kyle, who’s love language is food, would make SO many amazing delicious things as well as a d a n g e r o u s punch each year. I remember taking tequila shots in my bedroom with my besties (we used pink Himalayan salt because that’s all we could find in my apartment??). I remember getting so drunk that I “Irish Exited” my own party to go to bed. I just stood up while we were all watching a Taylor Swift documentary, didn’t say anything, and didn’t return (she’s mysterious). I also remember waking up the following morning and puking in the shower and my good friend who stayed over asking Google to play “Mambo No. 5” so no one would hear me :).
Apart from the drunken escapades of my mid 20’s self, my favorite memories of these big parties is that every time, without fail, someone would get to the piano to play “Auld Lang Syne” at midnight, and everyone would sing it at the top of their lungs. If I close my eyes, I see this kaleidoscope of every year of this exact moment behind my eyelids. I see my friends and their tipsy, rosy cheeks smiling back at me. I can hear my grandfather’s piano, completely out of tune, singing her best for all of us. I can see Kyle scanning the room to soak in the moment for herself (I have this super power with only Kyle, where I can recognize when her heart is “scanning” a memory for safe keeping).
I finally got my big, sexy, wild New Year’s Eve and she was so beautiful.
New Year’s of Yesterday
(literally yesterday)
And now I am 31 and as the story goes, I am now dry and decrepit and no longer interesting and have no life left to live! So no more parties :( the end!
Jokes!
Post Pandemic, much like everything, the New Year’s Eve ragers we held kind of lost their spark. Our friend group was growing up! And that meant differing priorities and plans and the bright little New Year’s party on the far Northside had her final voyage in 2022 into 2023. I thought saying goodbye to this “tradition” would be so sad! I thought I’d be so disappointed and heartbroken, but what’s crazy is that I too had grown up! I was also developing new needs and priorities for myself and this party didn’t seem to fit inside the life Kyle and I were living. I am in no way saying that we will never throw an absolutely fabulous New Year’s Eve Party in our lives again- in fact, we have very large daydreams of one day having a bigger place where we can host a dinner party on New Year’s Eve! But for now, we have traded in our sequins and sparkly dresses for silk pajamas and a La-Z-boy recliner (I am 90 years old actually). And ya wanna know the absolute darnedest thing? I felt so fulfilled by this new version of my New Year’s Eve.
Yesterday, Kyle and I spent the evening cleaning our apartment. We finished the Sisyphean tasks of the goddamn laundry and the goddamn dishes, we took everything showers, we had our own shrimp ring! We marathoned a murder mystery (Mare of Easttown, thank you Stefan and Kayla) and had glasses of Prosecco. When the clock struck midnight, Kyle hit pause on the Apple TV, came over to me in my recliner where Oliver (our cat) was asleep in my lap, and kissed me for the New Year. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite I caught a glimpse of 16 year old me in her bedroom and also 24 year old me drunk in her dining room and they both smiled and sighed in relief.
While I will always be pro New Year’s Eve party, I cannot express how magical? Overwhelming? Wonderful? it is to gently welcome the New Year into existence. Instead of jumping on 2025’s back and pulling her hair, steering her in the direction I think she should go, she knocked on our door gently and I let her in and offered her a cup of tea and a blanket. We kept our home warm and safe for her arrival. And Goddess above and below, I am hoping, praying, wishing that 2025 reciprocates the favor to us this year and is gentle in return.
I wasn’t expecting to feel so fulfilled by having a quiet New Year’s Eve at home and the only explanation I can grasp for this shift in my feelings is that I am so grateful. Gratitude has been something I’ve really been trying to actively cultivate and lemme tell you that shit is MAGICAL. It reshapes your brain into thinking every moment is gorgeous. Rainy walks on a cold December day? I’ve never felt more alive. Cleaning the litter box full of cat shit? I am so lucky to get to do this. Student Loan emails? Well, ok you can fuck off. If we think of how we spend our New Year’s Eves as a moment that will shape and color how our year pans out, I’m going to have one spectacular year of rest, of safety and warmth, and of love.
I’m not sure if it’s just feeling GR8 to not have woken up with a hangover today, or if it’s my heart doing that Grinch thing where it grows three sizes in a single day but I feel rather emo over the fact that I get to live this life. That I get to love, grow, argue, cry, read, discuss, create, and fart around on this big ol’ ball with all of you. I want so badly to protect this softness and this feeling because I know we’re going to face the fucking Orcs this year. I know for a fact they’re coming for me and mine.
Actual image of Mitch McConnell, JD Vance, and Elon Musk.
While I brace for the onslaught, I take one tiny piece of solitude in the knowing that these slimes always lose. Always. They are not the Samwise Gamgee’s of the story. They don’t get to be the heroes. They don’t get to return to The Shire. But we will (who did a rewatch recently raise ur hands).
And in the meantime, if you need a safe place to breathe, with an out of tune piano and two huge, fat house cats, and a warm kitchen, I’ll be here.
I hope you can find moments of stillness and gentleness this year, but especially this month. I love Winter for that exact reason. She makes you slow down. I hope you can embrace 2025 with tenderness and an eager heart.
Keeping the lights on for ya,
- Ruth <3