“And it’s been a long time since I’ve heard you speak; And you never saw who I turned out to be”

I sit, legs stretched and snuggled beneath two cozy blankets on my new-to-me oversized gray couch. A wood fire blazes before me. The scenario is reminiscent of many other evenings, but somehow tonight is different.

I know it’s a supposed relevant occasion. The end of a 365-day cycle. Another rotation around the sun is complete. If it were other years, I’d be with friends. Or, scrapbooking alone in another space while my someone special played video games in the living room. He often started the fire and enjoyed its glow, reminding me my presence was welcome as long as I surrendered to his chosen activities.

I didn’t.

Yet, sometimes, moments before the Times Square Ball dropped, I’d come into the living room to watch the event and insist on a kiss.

Tonight, that is a memory. A distant, nearly forgotten recollection of a time gone by.

On this evening, I determinedly devoured mini peanut butter cups and painted the trim and doors of my next room makeover project. I listened to empowering country music and remembered two specific friends who have since passed.  Their memories flashed to my mind’s eye through familiar melodies and sincere lyrics.

“Find a truck and fire it up; lean on the gas and off the clutch.” Instantaneously, I’m transported out of New England’s bitter chill and into the tropical warmth of South Texas. George Strait’s “Run” brings me to the brink of tears.

“Hi, Joe. I miss you.”

I talk to a seemingly empty room. My voice drowns into the void of a new tune when I hear “Always gonna fly away, just because you know you can; Never gonna learn there’s no such place as a Neverland.”

“Why tonight?”

Oh, that’s right. New Year’s Eve. 2002 into 2003. San Antonio Riverwalk. The memory begins to form when another consumes the moment. It’s Boston. The last day of 1999. A brisk night with her. “Hi, Amy.”

Immediately, the phone dings. Again.

And, again.

And again.

Breaks become more frequent. Texts come in from around the country. Little hellos, sweet messages, silly memories, and laugh-out-loud threats with retaliation.

I finish, clean up, and situate myself in my home’s sexiest room. I allow the warmth to turn to tranquility. Love surrounds me. And, not once do I feel alone.