I said this to my friends at 10 pm on New Years Eve. Our quarter-of-a-century-long tradition is to stay up until midnight, watch the ball drop, and make a toast with champagne. But I was half nodding off at 9:30. I didn’t particularly want a glass of champagne. My body was saying go to sleep.
My head, when it tipped and drooped and bonked against my shoulder, was saying it too. In the past, I might’ve fought it. Who wants to be a party pooper? Why not buck up and press through? On the other hand, maybe it’s okay to go to sleep when you want to go to sleep. This isn’t working for me, I said, and I laughed.
I laughed because it made it easier to say, and (I hoped) it made it easier for my friends to hear. I have been trying an experiment. Being honest with myself. You would think this would be a thing that wouldn’t be hard. I used to think that too. But then, I was lying.
Here’s what happens when you lie: Your eyes twitch. You get stomach cramps and migraines. One time, you break out in a rash. Another time, you throw up on a plane. The biggest lie of all is saying you are completely fine. You can handle this. You don’t need help.
Anyway, I got help, and now, most days, I feel okay. The next night we were soaking in a hot tub.
I was amazingly well-rested. The house where we were staying to celebrate New Years was on a lake. The lake was right there, only yards away from the hot tub, and I was in love with the view. This was an Airbnb and the owners had mentioned in the guestbook that we would see the sunset over the lake. The sunset (and I quote the owners) “will make you cry.”
Every night while we were there, we rushed out as the sun was setting, and every night we just missed it. I don’t know how this kept happening. It was the trees in the way. It was the sun slipping behind them too fast. If you blinked, it was over. But now, in the hot tub, we had renewed hope. We were talking about the past year. The lows, which were very low. Serious illnesses and surgeries and estrangements and all of that set against the crazy backdrop of the world.
But then, there were the highs. A wedding and fun travels and good times spent with family and friends. This quarter of a century long friendship, too, ranks right up there. Forget the sunset. When I think about these people, it’s love and gratitude for them that makes me cry. The conversation moved onto other things.
What we would have for dinner. A funny game we wanted to play. Our favorite books and TV shows. Our kids. Our jobs. Our pets. My fingers were pleasantly pruny. The sky went orange and then pink. I lost myself for a moment in the lake, the sun, the steam. This is working for me, is what I was thinking.
I wish I had said it.
