Ah, that word. Tomorrow I start something new. But today, yesterday, the month before, last Christmas, I also had to start a few new things. ‘Had to’ and ‘few’ being mild interpretations. It involved much arm twisting. Is ‘new’ the new familiar? The mind reels.
Above is (sure ok, you guessed it) a new friend—Little Bear. One that looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following, then goofily trips over a hole and falls on his face in the process.
I’m getting tired of new. Unbeknownst to me I had a limit on these things. Recently, for reasons too close to home, I’ve been thinking about dying, why we fear moving on. The answer—obviously—being that no one has come back and told us what it’s like. “Ah, I’m just going to step outside the universe to grab a pack of cigarettes.” is not a phrase one is used to hearing. But that’s a tangent for another time.
Perhaps new is too loaded of a word. Not with possibility, but ripe with fault. Like your brand new car, pristine. Ah, the responsibility of avoiding a pothole, other cars, giving yourself space when parallel parking. The frantic check for dents. But what is really happening? Are you just waiting for that dent to occur, those bumps and bruises, so you can get on with it? Maybe I should think of it as novel, ultra modern. Free of the pressure and responsibility. Forward moving, downhill.
So now as I step into personally uncharted territory. But I will be looking over my shoulder to make sure you’re still there. And hopefully if I don’t fall on my face I’ll come back and describe it to you.