I went to bed early last night, which is not a huge shift from any preceding New Year’s Eve activity. I like going to bed early because not only does it supply with a few more hours of shut eye, but then I can also wake up early when it is still quiet. At this hour, there’s nothing really going. The assault from the television has not yet been initiated, and all I’ve got as a companion is the light knocking of our house’s heating system that intermittently layers on top of the kitchen clock. As the light grows outside, I take the odd moment to perch in my bathrobe on the back step and listen to the wind in the trees or the odd bird announcing nothing more than the fact that daylight is breaking. This is 1 January 2020, just like any other day of the year.

Ten years ago today, I was getting ready to head to Fenway Park to watch the Boston Bruins take the field and beat the Philadelphia Flyers. A few days later I would fly to Senegal to begin a new life in West Africa. Ten years before that day, and even ten years gone by, that phrase tends to sound a bit surprising, if not nonsensical. But as I sit for a few moments now in today’s 35F weather, I recognize that such incongruous activities are the slices of life that make it extra sparkly. Things that you really can never conceive of, yet at the same time they are events that you embark upon if only to see what the experience will be like.

I was chatting briefly with a friend of mine regarding goals and aspirations for the coming year. While I have never been organized enough to draft tables full of near-term aspirations, it is never hard to conjure up a few personal objectives that demonstrate varying degrees of vanity and self-centeredness. Two things that immediately come to mind are learning Italian and losing a few pounds. Each would do me some good as I head back to my new home in Rome and don’t feel so uncomfortable in fitting into the culture and my existing wardrobe. It’s been a good year, but man I still love me some chocolate peanut butter ice cream and Dad’s homemade pasta.

Yesterday was New Year’s Eve. My brother and I were working on a project in the wood shop when Dad came back from Falmouth Lumber. It’s a place that I have been visiting since I was a kid where Dad wold stand us up on the counter and the owner would come over and hand us Tootsie Pops. All of the folks working inside know us kids better than we know them. But as I grew older, I was always friendly with one guy named Paul. When he was young, he was a Peace Corps volunteer in Morocco, so once I returned from Senegal we always had a sort of kinship that involved living on the African continent.

So yesterday, when Dad came back from Falmouth Lumber, he told me that he had some bad news. At the weekend, Paul had gone to the Patriots game and died of a massive heart attack. Like all sudden departures, this of course came as a shock. My brother had just seen him, all dressed up like the hippy Christmassy elf that he was, standing behind the counter with a kind smile. Life is filled with both happy and tragic experiences of circumstance. And we have no choice but to take them as they come– because you really have no clue what’s coming up next.

I didn’t really sit down this morning to write a blog entry. I only wanted to drink my coffee and enjoy the winter Cape Cod morning before I got wrapped up in another day of projects with the family. In another ten years, who knows how many of us will still be vertical and conscious of the fact that we’ve made it through another wicket. Thinking of Paul and all of the kindness that he and others have bestowed upon me, I think I might knock my superficial goals down a peg and instead try to be a bit more like the people, acquaintances and strangers whom I appreciate every day. Some more kindness and (for me) a ton more patience infused into my daily interaction.

The winter sun is now up and over the horizon. I can tell because the clouds just above the tree line have grown pink and will quickly move to a honeyed yellow before we’re off to the races with our day. My coffee is gone and Dad will be in the house soon, going about his routine and then me to mine. Before we both know it, the day will be done and, with any luck, we’ll be giving each other a big hug and headed back to bed. It’s a nice way to live the day, and if I really think about, a goal that I’d like to achieve with each day going forward.