I have always loved New Years Eve. More than Christmas Eve. Of course, I’m talking about those happy events that took place in this beautiful time when the state of health emergency did not prevent us from coming together, and I would even say, of an era that goes back even further.
When I was little, I was fascinated by the special music that played in the house from morning to night on this last day of the year. It was festive music, that seemed to come from the old days and didn’t play at Christmas. We could hear violin, accordion and harmonica, and the people singing over these merry tunes rolled their “rs” as they stamped their feet.
I remember those songs telling weird stories, for example, about a lady who had a pimple on the tip of her tongue that kept her from accomplishing something, but what exactly, it was hard to say. Even though I didn’t understand the lyrics, there was all the same, in these songs, a sort of catchy rhythm that made you want to repeat the words and dance around the tree, without asking too many questions.
While I was still old enough to believe in Santa Claus, I already really liked the lively vibe of this holiday moment. But it wasn’t until I was allowed to stay up until midnight that December 31st became my favorite day of the year.
At first glance, aside from the music that differed and the gifts that had been unwrapped a few days earlier, the New Year’s festivities might resemble those on December 24th.
My mother waxed her floors with a product that smelled of lemon, we dressed chic, the coats piled up on my parents’ bed, we ate cocktail sausages wrapped in bacon, Mr. Bean had his head stuck in the room. abdomen of a huge turkey, and the later the clock, the more my father splurged with my uncles, and the louder my aunts laughed.
A special tradition
However, the last evening of the year was marked with a special tradition. A little before the stroke of midnight, all in chorus almost shouting, we scrolled down the last 10 seconds of the year, then wishing each other that life in front of each of us would be beautiful and happy.
The fir tree lit up the basement with its little multicolored lights, the sparkling wine flowed freely, La Bottine smiling made its fiddlers go, and everyone hugged each other, kissing each other on the cheeks.
It was a moment that always seemed to me full of joy, but loaded with all kinds of emotions too.
It seems to me that, every year, someone ended the evening alone by the tree, their eyes red and shining, without anyone daring to ask if it was a moment of sweet nostalgia or of deep sorrow.
It must be said that it is not because we cheer the first day of the year by blowing a plastic trumpet and clapping our hands that we necessarily have the heart to the party. Sometimes the festive mood of people hangs by a thread, but to avoid disappointing those who have been watering the turkey all day, it happens that these grieving souls cling to a forceful smile while holding on to near the punch bowl.
Passing time
One day, I realized that the festivities of December 31 were not only used to celebrate the beginning of a new year, but that this annual meeting was also an occasion to underline the fact that time passes.
When you think about it, counting the last seconds of the year out loud is a curious ritual, but one that has some usefulness. In fact, this practice probably has the same effect on the human imagination as placing the number of candles corresponding to the birthday of the birthday child on their birthday cake.
In a way, this materializes the flow of existence, a very real phenomenon, albeit silent and invisible. Basically, changing the date by throwing confetti in the air is the same as changing your age by shouting hip hip hip hooray surrounded by garlands and balloons of all colors: it is a way of realizing that even if in the immediate future nothing appears, in reality, this time which belongs to us is counted.
Even today, the last day of the year remains for me a feast day that I like to celebrate, among other things because this moment also marks the beginning of a new beginning, of a new cycle where anything can happen. , because everything is still possible.
Moreover, many of us project ourselves into this future with confidence and resolution, promising ourselves in our hearts that we will take care of ourselves, while wishing each other happiness, health, and happiness. love and success.
But perhaps one of the best things we could hope for for the year ahead is that at this date next year, nothing prevents us from reuniting with those we love. May we once again find ourselves serenely, dressed chic in front of the illuminated tree, drinking sparkling wine around a wreath of shrimp and a crudités dip, the Bolduc jiggling in the background.
After all, coming together to count loudly the seconds that will take us to a new page on the calendar is not just a gentle reminder that we walk through time together; it is also a precious tradition. And that only happens once a year.