Today is the first day of 2016.
Twenty-Sixteen. When you break it down that way, it sounds young and sexy and a little bit reckless doesn't it? Maybe it will be.
I think we should break up birthday numbers the same way. Twenty-Eighteen (20+18) sounds more regal than plain 'ol 38. And aging deserves a bit more more pomp than it gets. Half the planet doesn't make it past the age of 20 so let's pay some respect to staying alive/growing up/old, or whatever you want to call it.
When I hit 50, I shall declare my age in Half-Century and Quarter-Century chunks - just for dramatic effect. That day feels a long way off and yet, every year flies by faster than the last. 365 days is pretty short, considering we only get about 80 laps around the sun. We are all so busy chasing our tails, dreams, children, money and other arbitrary goals, that it takes tragedies or miracles to shake us from our orbit.
Twenty Fifteen whizzed by me - through me - like the Roadrunner amused by my inability to keep up with it. It was an exciting, mercurial ride. Like most years I will need distance from it, to see it with clarity. After all, half of every year is just the seeds of past years coming to bloom. Which is a good reminder to all of us to keep planting - and perhaps even more importantly - keep weeding.
Twenty-Sixteen - come and get me. I'm ready to get my hands dirty.