On The Eve of the Eve

Like a shedding hair, soon replaced by another, the turning of the year means little to me (though, like the hair, I am aware there are few years ahead of me than there once were). I have tried to celebrate the Solstice in the past, but the physical fact that our planet has once again - quite naturally - reached the end of its cycle seems almost as arbitrary a reason to celebrate as is the 31st of December. Though I've lived in the country, I feel like a born urban child; more, I know there is nothing miraculous about the return of the sun.

Still, arbitrary or not, this seems as good a time as any - better, perhaps - for contemplative reflection. Besides, not only does my girlfriend read this journal, but so does at least one (lurking) cousin, and now my father. No doubt other members of my offline life will soon join them (for reasons that are neither here, nor there, for the purposes of this post).

The Annals of Young Geoffrey, like any living document, is an evolving thing, changing as I change. It is - I suspect - are far different beast than it was when I started it, nearly a year-and-a-half and almost 200 posts ago.

I don't mind, truly. (Please forgive me that small theft, Sidra; it fits.)

It's Been a Very Good Year
As befits a more and less personal journal, I can only look back on this year as one of the happiest of my life. Other parts of the world have seen war and famine; drought and - god knows - catastrophic flood; but my little corner has seen little but surprising joy.

Friendships grown stronger through the most unlikely of ways; a exciting and challenging job, come looking for me while I was growing desperately tired of my old one; a family reunion when a cousin surprised us all by taking the marriage plunge at the age of 40 (we more than once wondered if we would not both end up alone or, at best, serially involved and serially alone); my neice in a play; and, yes, a most unlikely love that grows stronger each time I see her, or speak with her, or receive an email from her.

But you have all put up with my paens to Laura; you know how I feel about her.

Were I a religious man, I would be saying prayers, or sacrificing a goat - I would be doing something to thank some thing for the luck - no, for the fortune that has come my way over the past 365 days. But I am very far from a religious man and so, I suppose, this is as close as I can come to prayer.

Thank you, Laura.

Thank you, my friends, new and old.

Thank you, parents, brother, neice, cousins and aunts and uncles.

* * * * *

I had meant to write more, but it is late and maybe this is enough.