Sally Huggins Toner

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne?

It’s been exactly a year since my last post, but I promised myself I’d uphold the tradition of a New Years song offering with the most traditional…Yup…Auld Lang Syne

The Scottish title translates to “long long ago,” and we sing it at the transition from one year to the next. The old man 2024 waddles out on his cane, and the bouncing baby 2025 dons his sash. On a micro and macro level, we’re staring forward with more than a little trepidation, which often has me reaching back “long long ago” for clarity and comfort.

One of things I’ve always cherished about my husband is his approach to Christmas decorations. He’s worked from home for almost two decades, and, during that time, he begins decking the halls one little bit at a time from the first of December on. Every year, he moves something from its usual spot, and I take the switch up as a sweet surprise. This year, it was the ceramic nativity scene my mother painted when she was twelve. It used to sit on our black laqured spinnet when I was growing up, on top of a pile of cotton snow. I’d stare at it while I practiced Christmas carols, growing more excited the closer the holiday came. The creche’s new place is on top of the vanity on the landing with our first floor bathroom. No one who visits the house now can miss it. Neither did my mother, who spent the holiday with us this year. She mentioned it as she complemented my lasagna and tenderloin (both her recipes). 

“And the nativity set. Where you put it. Just so dear.” 

“That’s all Mark,” I corrected. Holiday spirit, at its best, is always a team effort.

And we’ve had plenty of it in the past few weeks. Both girls home, games, music, laughter. I think that’s what I remember most about Christmas growing up. The laughter. As I grew older, I realized the blessing that was. There are so many who remember just the opposite this time of year.

I’ve posted before about the holidays and grief. And this season holds that for our family as well. My mother-in-law is declining. We spent time at her house as well, giving her French champagne, a bite of Bouche de Noel. Flanked by her granddaugthers, she still managed to kick all of our asses in Gin Rummy. Another thing I cherish about my husband illuminated by witnessing the past six months–he is a phenomenal son.

We are the sandwich generation. Once the house quiets from the exit of children, our own parents circle around again. Last night, I dreamed my mother-in-law was an infant again. I held her in my arms, swaddled, and she had the same elegant 88-year-old face but a tiny body. (Remarkable, as I never perfected the baby burrito with our own children, but it was a dream, after all.) Some real Benjamin Button shit. Though it occured to me this morning that Fitzgerald didn’t live past 40. How did he know what growing old meant? His imagination aged his soul, perhaps, to that point of wisdom. 

There is much ahead and much that will be behind for us in the new year. I’m past wishing the days away, saying things like, “Hey, 2024, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.” We should have compassion for that old man hobbling off. We know him. We fought with him, were grateful for his care of us sometimes, just as we acknowledge his abuse in other instances. We have watched his face age over the past twelve months, laugh lines forming in the corners of his eyes, redness in their whites when he grew angry or sad. Sometimes we didn’t understand him, and there were multiple questions he never answered. But he helped make us who we are as we welcome that innocent babe into the world at midnight, wailing and laughing at the same time.

We two have run about the hills,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

I wish a cup of kindness so fiercely tonight, on a macro and micro level. Wish comfort, peace so fiercely tonight, on a macro and micro level. Wish renewal and exciting adventures so fiercely tonight, on a macro and micro level.

I sit on my mother-in-law’s couch typing this, sandwiched between a past I revere and mourn and a future I view with excitement and fear. And in this moment, I’m grateful for how okay I am with that. 

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

Happy New Year, my friends.