Now that January is nearly done and I’ve had time to fully contemplate the year, I’m ready to write about it. 2005 wasn’t a good year for many people, and I am among them, though to a far lesser degree than the inhabitants of New Orleans, Guatamala, Kashmir and half a dozen other places where nature brought us to our knees.
The best moment of the year, for me, was ironically enough on its last day. I was sitting at the kitchen table in the house of my friend’s family, talking to his mother. His father was milling around, talking to his son and another friend of ours. Their other son was nearby. And then my friend asked me if I had finally completed my degree. I told him yes. Out of the blue came a triumphant “YES” and he and I slapped palms. I looked out at his family for a brief moment and saw them all happily praising me for finally, blessedly getting the hell out of Rutgers. That was a good moment, where the friend I hadn’t seen for months reminded me of how fortunate I am. I have few very close friends, and I know I am fortunate. My friends are truly like a family to me, and although we often use that description, we seldom mean it. Family is an inseparable bond, a close one that defies our most shitheaded moments. We are both restrained and exalted by it. Having a tense relationship with much of my own bloodline, I have come to appreciate the connection I have with those I’ve been through ten shades of hell with. They have pulled me out of the ringer and I am grateful for it. Just a thought on 2005, that my best moment was not of my own making, but then again, how often are they?