Ureshii: 6 -- The Year-ender
photo courtesy of Dappers.
Outside, fireworks whizz and bang and boom for all their money's worth, and cars and sirens blare themselves hoarse in defiance to the wet weather. People eat, drink, kiss. Making merry, plans, resolutions, and perhaps for the lucky few, love.
The beer is setting in. Perhaps it was a bad decision to go Strong Ice. Meh. Only thing on the fridge anyway, and I'm not to sure about popping open the rhum or the gin. It's nice and warm now in my belly, but it's not enough to keep me from thinking I should be all warm and alcohol fuzzed, snuggled asleep in your arms.
It's been years, and you still give me the love-shivers.
You've been quite perplexing, baby. It's been a very weird time with you, and really, sometimes you can get very infuriating. You love pulling fast ones on me, and I will still have some trouble getting over those. (Well, I probably will eventually, but still!) You've too often sent me running for my time, and money, and health, and have made me extract that last, last burst of energy I never knew existed -- both to finish the job, and maybe, just hopefully, have enough left over so I can wring the living daylights out of you. Then, you pull another fast one, and sweep me off my feet with very random and exhilarating moments. Creative conquests, family and friends, and pat on the back or a kiss on the forehead for a job exhaustingly yet well done -- It's enough to drive a girl crazy, but I gotta admit, you make a woman out of me.
You've been as wierd as I am, dear 2008, and for that I am thankful for you, and yeah, I think I do like you.
You've been tough on me in more ways than I care to count, but you've also brought me so much joy. You've taught me the value of learning, and what it is to eke out as much of it as I can because the world does turn and will not wait for me. You've shown me the value of intense work and intense play, and how too much or too little of each other can be very bad for you. You make me redefine the words Family and Friends in my vocabulary over and over again, and thus, you make me practice what I teach.
You reduce me to terrible metaphors and half-turned phrases, and all I can do is be very, very sincere.
I now know that Love sounds like peaceful snoring beside you on a cold, wet evening, and that makes me happy.
You've given me cold, hard bones, 2008, and all I can think off right now is how amazing it's all been giving them flesh and blood, giving it a face, giving them bones a voice that sings the truth.
You are astonishing, 2008. And I love you.