New.

Emerging, slitty-eyed and wrinkled into the light of midnight-plus-one, the year stares up at you, astounding in its ...newness. No missed deadlines, no editorial rejections, no misused adverbs or deleted lines marring its pristine wee face.

Can you treat it as carefully as you would an infant?
Can you support its dreams as firmly as you would the wobbly head of a child?
Can you allow it to live and move and grow, and not doubt it, not dither at it with indecision, not allow its inexorable forward momentum to drag you beneath it, and crush you?

In its toddlerhood, the new year might work your nerves. Have some dim sum and a few fireworks, rekindle your relationship at the Lunar celebration, and keep your patience.

In its adolescence, the new year will try your patience. But, June is also the time to celebrate the first soft brush of summer -- and you and the year will have become acquainted enough to know each other's faults and weaknesses. Forgive. Grit your teeth. Start over.

In its mellow adulthood, anything is possible. September will find you recovering from the last gasp of the summer, ready to start again, as everywhere, students give you a good example to follow. You can do this "life" thing. With a newly sharpened pencil and a fresh sheet of paper, anything is possible - the year has shown you this before.

The year will spin 'round again, before you know it. Open your hands, and cup the treasure it brings: hope. Possibility.

The present is, after all, a gift.

Bonne année (Fr),
Feliz año nuevo (Sp),
bliadhna mhath ur (Scots Gaelic),
& Blwyddyn Newydd Dda (kinda Welsh)
from the writer girls in the Wonderland Treehouse.

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For Y2