New Year

A year ago, I was in Tuscany, staying at an organic farm/villa with my younger son, Nate and his girlfriend, Meghan, as guests of Meghan's dad, step-mom, and sister. On New Year's Eve, we went to an excellent restaurant in a small town nearby for an eight-course dinner that began at 9 PM and ended (with ultra-sweet sparkly wine) promptly at midnight.

Before dinner, on the advice of the woman who'd called about twelve restaurants to find one that had room for us, we went to the beautifully preserved ruin of a medieval abbey. The lighting was especially well-done and subtle, and the experience was heightened by the full moon, which was centered in the stonework of the rose window at one end of the building. There were few people around, and the place was magical, mystic, maybe even spiritual.

Dinner was spectacular, though with my tiny stomach (80% removed three years ago), I could only take tastes from other people's plates. I'm not sure that even with a full-sized stomach I could have consumed all eight courses! I was a little sad that everyone else got a new place setting with each course, and I just kept eating off my charger (the underplate). But then, the restaurant wasn't charging me for eating, either.

At midnight, everyone in the restaurant--everyone in the town--adjourned to the town square, where someone was serving mulled wine from a big cauldron, and someone else was providing music, singing along to a karaoke machine, and everyone was dancing. Philip and Kathleen (Meghan's parents) wowed the crowd, especially the young Italians, with their moves from the '60s. It was quite a party, but about 2:30 AM (surely the latest I'd been up in years), I really began to fade. And, no thanks to the mulled wine, get morose. An elderly couple was dancing: she in her mink coat and high heels and carefully dyed and curled hair, he in a trendy orange/rust colored cardigan. They were probably in their 80s, and I thought, I'll never be as old as they are; in fact, this is likely my last new year's eve.

Well, obviously, it wasn't. I'm leaving this afternoon to meet Nate in Las Vegas. Tomorrow we'll drive to Zion National Park and meet up with Jed (my older son) and his partner, Nazgol. I imagine we'll spend a rousing New Year's Eve playing Scrabble. Or maybe we'll go out-- but whatever we do, I'll be there! And since I doubt there will be any mulled wine, maybe I can dispense with the moroseness, and just enjoy the fact that I've had a great year, and that I'm once again able to greet the new year in a beautiful place with people I love.

Happy new year to you!