I love my tradition of searching for, selecting and sharing a poem for the new year. I found this one right about the time I found an actual piñata for us to break on Christmas Eve, a new holiday tradition for us in Mexico. Another wonderful serendipity about this poem for me is that New Year's Eve is the anniversary of my courthouse wedding to Christian. We are seven years in now, with two children new friends recently called "beautifully-spirited." As in any good marriage there are happy days, exhausting moments, laughter, routines, magic, sporadic date nights, arguments, forgiveness and the effort to remember to focus on us as much as our kids. The line "...and I want to bring it back to him, that new" resonates deeply.
Wishing you all that feeling, that new, in 2017 and "all the lives you might live, each unnamed, until you name it."
At the market today, I look for Piñata
apples, their soft-blush-yellow. My husband
brought them home last week, made me guess at
the name of this new strain, held one in his hand
like a gift and laughed as I tried all
the names I knew: Gala, Fuji, Honey
Crisp—watched his face for clues—what to call
something new? It's winter, only tawny
hues and frozen ground, but that apple bride
was sweet, and I want to bring it back to him,
that new. When he cut it, the star inside
held seeds of other stars, the way within
a life are all the lives you might live,
each unnamed, until you name it.
~ Susan Rothbard