Oh, to have said it in Abbie Graham's words in her little Ceremonial of Common Days:
On New Year's Eve I am at home to the Future. I want to hear her ring the doorbell of the world...There is no hurry on this evening. With much leisure I make preparation for the guest who is to come and for the gifts that she will bring. I set my house in order. There is always a keen sense of failure when I find that its appointments are so meager, its proportions so inadequate. I would have my house more in keeping with the royal character of my guest.
Before I am aware of her approach, a mighty shouting heralds her coming; I open the door. The gorgeous guest from afar sweeps in. In her hands are her gifts--the gift of hours and far-seeing moments, the gift of mornings and evenings, the gift of spring and summer, the gift of autumn and winter. She must have searched the heavens for boons so rare.
It is almost 10 p.m. here now as I finish this. I will let BreeBree and James Mason out to go potty one last time and then we will go to bed. Their daddy told us goodnight a good hour ago.
After reading these loveliest of words by Abbie Graham I wonder if I will sleep because I know I will be thinking of the gorgeous guest who has searched the heavens for 2020's gifts, "the gift of mornings and evenings, the gift of spring and summer, the gift of autumn and winter."
No, I may not be able to sleep.
I am at home to the future.
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