Its new year

In which our Hero’s world has a space where his Nocturne should be

The last few years, the kids take great joy in mixing martinis, but I’m the only one who can drink them. And in a just world you would be here to take a sip of what I was finishing and saving me from the booze.

I’m not drunk, and I’m not affectionate because I’m drink. I’m affectionate because I love you, and the alcohol makes a great excuse. I held each of my kids today, each of my cousins, and I kissed them and told them that I loved them, and that I was very proud of them, and that I wished them a fantastic year ahead, finishing 11th grade, or high school, or university or whatever. And what makes it all incomplete is not hugging you and thumping your back and telling you how much I wish for you in this new year.

But just because I can’t thump your back, the wish is wished, my love. I wish you a grand year, a magnificent year. A year that makes even this epic year pale. A year that makes you look back at the world before it and wonder how it could even fit together.

I love you Nocturne. Happy New Year, when you happen to read this.

And to you my OD favourites, I’m doing a terrible job of being a friend, of showing you the care and concern that you deserve. I’ve been self-absorbed, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m proud of you too. And I love you. And tomorrow, when I’ve had a chance to sleep off the metabolic load my sweetheart children have inflicted on me, I’ll stop by to tell you directlu.

But I wanted to tell you right now, I love you. Not drunk I love you, but with my heart, my joyous heart, brimming over with glee at the magic your year must surely hold.

Love,

Serin.