Home Tails of the Blind Pig
Turning Wheels
by Wanderer
Wanderer -- all rights reserved


"To the New Year, my friends!", I called as the ball in New York dropped.

Then, as I had been all night, I sang it again:

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
A-and ne-ver brought to mind ... "

My voice creaked on that high note, and I longed for my change-vanished falsetto.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
A-and days of auld lang syne ... "

My throat itched as I sang in my old, and now almost unreachable, key. But I held onto the note just the same.

"In days of auld lang syne, my friend,
In days of auld lang syne ... "

I stretched up for the next note, barely capturing it with my now-rasping throat.

"We'll drink a cup of kind-ness then,
Fo-or au-uld la-ang syne."

"Hay, Wanderer", Jack called from the piano beside me, "Not that I mind your singing, but that's the tenth time you've sung that thing. Not in the mood for something easier?"

"Jack", I said as I leaned into Lady D's smiling warmth, "There are New Years starting every day, all around the globe. I'm simply celebrating every last one of them tonight. The Arabic New Year, the one I was born on ... the Chinese New Year, in which zodiac I am an iron dog ... the American New Year ... Jack, it's a whole new year of possibilities and surprises, all for us." I kissed Lady Death's hand and smiled. "And now, a toast", I said, raising my glass of sparkling cider high.

"Here's to you and here's to me,
As on we travel through the year.
Let all we know and all we see,
Be blest in all their lives so dear."

"HAP-PY NEW YEAR!!!", I cried, my overly resonant voice rattling the windows.

And it was.

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