Lit Right Up

New Years is rung in on the twelfth floor of a thirteen story New Westminster condo complex, watching the punks in the park across the street race through trees and bushes sending off Roman Candles across the lawns without giving a good goddamn about fire codes. On our way over we’d seen a cavalcade of fire engines burning across the night en route to the first dumb accident of the evening. Later on, a friend of a friend invited us to join another house party where fire spinning would feature prominently, though the combination of tequila and exhaustion forced us to decline; 2014 had sapped the life from us, and 2015 was heralded in with shouts from a comfortable vantage point rather than from a grimy bar floor surrounded by strangers with free shitty champagne and an asshole ready to start a fight over a slight you didn’t see coming until his fists were already mid-flight.

2014 broke a great many things apart; Twitter spread viruses faster than the viruses actually spread, we were slaves to behold fresh hells and tragedy with every morning headline, and bloody injustice blossomed into packed streets and protest chants across the country. Planes fell from the skies, the seas continued climbing up our mountaintops and on every channel there was a weeping mother telling us about the hardships of the journey, of leaving home under fire and striding across a wasteland seeking some sort of shelter. The year got under our skin and into our bones, gnawing at our marrow while we slept. The day after the gunman was killed at Parliament, I felt a twinge of fear as I stepped onto a crowded Skytrain, wondering; “Is this how I’m going to go?”

The changing of the calendar doesn’t resow seeds and doesn’t reset the chessboard. It’s just another day, lit up with fireworks and a brief, elusive strand of happiness dancing through the air like confetti with a soul that needs to shake it all out.

So, if you can, be that confetti. You might catch some revelers eye while you waft across the December/January air and light Roman Candles in their lungs.

Figure they’re probably needing it right about now.