New Year's morn

Everyone is asleep. The smoke and stench of gunpowder has not fully left, although there is less of it now than there was last year. ‘Tis a quiet morning, and I am awake, playing and singing to liturgical music.

I have woken up two hours too early. I will probably take a nap later. I am thinking of how the holidays have wrought their damage to my body. Yet more New Year’s resolutions to lose weight pop into mind—ones that most likely will not follow through. They will not do so precisely because they are New Year’s resolutions. Hahahaha.

For all the food and drink I have consumed just hours earlier, I am appalled that none of it was filling. I had eaten empty calories? Then again, perhaps alcohol had something to do with it. This was the closest I have ever been to getting drunk. Amazing it is how quickly I could consume red wine.

On the drive home at 2:30 am I heard my father singing along—for the first time in my memory. He was singing along to the Beatles in A Hard Day’s Night. It was disjointed, but unmistakable. Was this evidence of some alcohol left in his system?

In two hours’ time I will also be singing, back in the church where I had first sung as a tenor the night before.

Ba-dah, ba da...ba-dah, ba da...badadah ba da...