I feel the new year begin when November comes to call, but truly, too, this time of year is linked to new in my mind. New and Old weave back and forth, the future and the past interweave through memories. I see a new year's eve of long ago and others laid on top. It is a time I can remember, moments caught in the traditions that we kept.
Swinging open the back door to usher the old year out and welcoming the new year through the front door. This, moments into the new year. And we kids would run to see who could write the new year's date first on the wall at the corner of the room.
Mom would sweep the kitchen floor, but never a word of why. I wondered once when I saw her with the broom, sweeping a floor she'd mopped earlier in the day. She'd sweep toward the door and out -- this moments into the new year, as if to make ready for a guest. But never a word about it. So, I'm not sure if it was a tradition for the new year. The one she told us was to write the year on the wall, at the moment of midnight.
Later, with kids of my own, we made our own tradition -- something blackberry -- either blackberry mountain pie or blackberry water. We'd have something of blackberries to make sure the new year would be prosperous.
Mom would cook cabbage on New Year's Day. Usually, cabbage and corn bread. And she'd bake a silver coin into the bread. Sympathetic magic?
If so, it must have worked -- she said we were well off when I was a kid -- that my older brothers and sisters really had it rough. I don't remember us having socks, sheets, or towels -- and we had plastic curtains at the windows becaus they were cheap. But poverty is relative -- and in her mind, pinto beans and biscuits every day was wealth beyond comprehension.
But she was right -- we had riches. We had a woodstove in a house with tall windows that showed the mountains. We had stories, a lighted kitchen, and a Mom who knew about threshold times.
1 comment:
Beautifully written, Kate. And this could have only come from you as we are each so unique in our experiences.
I was the last of five kids and I had it better than anyone else.
But I heard about hard times all the time so it got instilled into me by my mother and my step dad.
A roof over the head and beans and biscuits every day was a good life. My mom had life rough as a kid and I was taught early on to be thankful always for whatever we had.
I love the idea of sweeping the old year out and ushering in the new. I've heard about baking a coin in the bread.
We always had cabbage and cornbread with whatever else. We had sauerkraut with cornbread today. I haven't strayed far from my upbringing. My head and heart are still there anyway.
Blessings.
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