On the Twelfth Day of a Feminine Christmas

The Twelfth Day of Christmas is actually January 6th and not New Year’s.  I’m acquainted with this because my daughter was born on the  twelfth day, also known as Epiphany.  And like the year she was born, this year’s Epiphany also falls on a Monday.

I was lucky the New Year’s Eve before my daughter was born, because I got to see and hear Pavarotti sing.  He performed in an elegant old hall which made him very approachable and lended a cozy atmosphere to the event.  I borrowed a maternity dress from a friend and remember how tired I was that evening.  I had no idea my daughter would be born just a few days later as she was due to come at the end of January and not at the beginning.

But I did enjoy that night very much.  Pavarotti, a tenor, sang opera, and then added some modern songs to his repertoire for us.  I couldn’t dance with my lumbering swollen feet, but I enjoyed watching the happy couples before me in their New Year’s finery.  The men, handsome in dark tuxes and the women glittered in gold taffeta or were chic in black velvet.  Everyone was dressed to the nines and so were the tables which were set with silver and crystal.  Stunning bouquets of holly and white irises sat in front of each dinner plate and I took mine home as a souvenir.  It was still fresh on the dining room table the day we brought our baby home from the hospital.  I think the image in this post reflects the lovely atmosphere of that concert nicely.

And I honestly think that was the last New Year’s Eve party I attended.  I’ve gone to small gatherings with friends of course, but never a big Nick-and-Nora-bash like that night with Pavarotti.  And yet, this doesn’t bother me a bit… I much prefer intimate, casual parties or I like to stay home.  I often find myself thoughtful and reflective on New Year’s Eve and being at home seems to suit me just fine these days.

The last few years, I’ve made some nice dinners, taken time to read any new Christmas picture books I received as gifts, crafted a few lists and even checked in with Times Square for a bit.  But I’m usually fast asleep at 11 pm – and there’s something exciting about waking up on January 1st and realizing that you have crossed over to a brand new year (with no mistakes in it yet~LMM).

I may attend another boisterous and glamorous New Year’s Eve party again.  But I’m not sure anything could top the night I heard an Italian icon sing right before me with all of Boston’s glitterati swirling about as I gently held my hand on top of a borrowed dress knowing I would have a wondrous surprise in my arms before too long.

Thank you so much Readers, for indulging me in my seasonal Christmas reveries.  It’s such a special time of year that I can’t help but be a little effusive here on the blog.  Happy New Year to each of you!