The last day of the year calls for profound thoughts. It’s the custom on New Year’s Eve to be deep and reflective and then to wake up New Year’s Day a very clean slate, a blank slate waiting for the very first chalk line to be drawn. On New Year’s Day we anticipate the future like no other day of the year, but only in the morning. By nightfall, we’re back in it, whatever it is or was.
Not wanting to let this momentous time pass unmarked by something remarkable, I craft this blog post called, “Ode to the Fried Egg Sandwich.” Why, you ask. First, when you are truly hungry, hungry in a basic way, not in a let me try the latest Indian/Sudanese/
Bulgarian buffet that just opened downtown way, you can’t beat a fried egg sandwich. With cheese. Not celebrated, this homely sandwich, but powerful, rich. Core. I like food that will keep you alive and doesn’t aspire to fame.
Other than my sudden and overwhelming appreciation of the fried egg sandwich, I have other deep thoughts about 2013:
I realized that I love writing more than doing anything else.
I had my hair colored for the first time and God didn’t strike me dead.
The best time I had this year was sitting next to my older daughter in her hospital room.
It’s ridiculous how luscious swimming can be.
My friends seem to be getting very old.
My high-heeled boots are really out of fashion but I keep them for burial purposes.
My telepathic powers have grown as my hearing has worsened making me remarkably able to discern what people are thinking, unfortunately, not always the person who is talking to me.
I don’t like associating with people whose lives are too swell.
I own a beautiful car and it has no dents at the moment.
Being outside can cure almost anything.
It’s been a year — 2013. Some good friends suffered terribly this year and I could do almost nothing to help them. My family remains complicated — like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces kept in different drawers in different rooms. It’s ok. My work is the best there is and I’m grateful for it. I probably have the best husband on the planet.
Other than that, you know, it’s just another year in the books.