HELLO TO YOU, SEXY NEW YEAR
2008 was like a prostitute with a wart on her behind.
If you caught her in the right light, and knew just where to look, she could be a good-looking woman. Sure. But 2008 was still a warty prostitute, after all. Was it circumstance that led her to this sad lot in life? Who cares--she infected us all with her warts. Gross, 2008. Gross.
But look! Here comes 2009, walking through the meadow with the sun behind her, shining through her gauzy nightgown, so you can almost see the little blonde hairs on her leg. How could you not fall in love with this beauty? Can you not see yourself, with your head in her lap, and her fingers playing with your hair? Maybe she is reading you something, or telling a story from wherever it is she comes from. It doesn't matter.
2009 is so beautiful you can hardly stand it. She is the year you can't stop mentioning to your friends, introducing her to everyone so they know the kind of year you are having. She is not the kind of year that makes you jealous--you know that she will always be your year. But she is so beautiful, and you love her so much, that you can't help wanting to share her with your friends a little, even if it's just for drinks once in a while.
2009 is stretched out before you, arms over her head, half-asleep and smiling, indolent in the grass. You can see in her all the things you have been missing in other years. There is no rush: if you play your cards right, 2009 could easily become 2010, and so on. This could be the year you quit counting.
Good night and good morning, 2009. I love you and look forward to getting to know you.
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