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Many an impression on how to remember my mama

That moment you know will never live up to all you expect, but that’s no reason to hold back, never mind your shivers it will be still laden with irrational emotions and sincerely heartfelt memories, breathing in these absolute first seconds of yet another chance, that resigning reverberating anticipation, clenched in the inexorable ticking clock: what’s not to love? I’ll be the one shedding a tear for who knows what or why but feeding the drama obviously, contained only by what can never be, but for few seconds might show itself anyway, when pigs fly over I’ll spot them.

Of all holidays we choose to overload with our silly but momentous symbolisms, I cherish this one to the utmost, mainly because of its straightforwardness and its loyalty to the inevitable, whatever happened or did not happen, this moment will provide access to that connecting, always open door, that entrance to a new day that will feel as strange or familiar as yesterday did, but without its disquietude because of its freshness.

My New Years Eves will forever be about my mother too, still frying ‘kroketten’ when the count down had already started, her acted nonchalance pushing my childlike me over all sorts of edges, thus contributing to the birth of my later uptightness, I swear, but also instantly resolved with a cheer, because she always made it on time, happy happy. That table filled with the delicacies she conjured up, worthy of replication every year since but never as good, our freedom to enjoy it without any of the regular rules, not even for our family dog that blithely participated, literally everything in life should start that sweet.

Over the many years, especially the ones where we had to look for her in the depths of our minds and hers, I’ve reliably kept many an impression on how to remember my mama, keep remembering her, but none as effective as this image. Let’s all take that leap and drink to another safe landing for everyone. Happy new year!

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