Don't Let Me Fall

Karen and Terry Begay hosted their family New Year's Eve celebration every year. Dinner had to include pizza, tacos, chips, and Grandma's chocolate cake. After dessert, tradition required each family member to share a favorite memory from the past year and a resolution for the next. At 8:30 PM they banged pots and pans, hollered, sang, blew horns, tossed confetti and kissed as though it were midnight in New York.

Sharing memories was their favorite part of the evening. "Remember when Tooth Fairy left my money under the wrong pillow?" "The cat jumped into the fish tank!" "Ethan colored Grandma's head with markers to celebrate her remission!" "Remember our trip to Disneyland?" "That twenty-pound trout!"

Laughter halted when three-year-old Zach gut punched six-year-old AJ for calling him "Pee-baby-dum-dum". The blow doubled AJ over; high decibel wails rose up from his deepest parts. Karen watched as her youngest son's patience reached the holiday red zone, she brushed past him and gave her grandchildren a kiss. The chocolate kind. Serotonin and sugar; a little, unapproved grandma magic. After thirty years as a child psychologist, Karen had decided that the side effects of chocolate were acceptable.

The room resumed its cheerful, low roar as New Year's resolutions began: "I'll stop biting my nails." "Win Dad at chess." "Make more memories." "Straight A's." "Kick the winning goal in soccer."

Karen and Terry stood in the doorway as their adult children gathered up toys, jackets, and shoes, herding their families out to warm, entertainment-filled vans. Evan, their eldest grandson, wrapped Karen in a gentle bear hug, swinging her feet off the floor. "Gotta go, too— catching a movie with Tanya — love ya, Grams."

The contented, worn-out hosts moved through their home to the rhythm of "Little Drummer Boy." Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum; tidying, rinsing off, throwing out. Karen moaned, "Oh, no, Carly forgot her soccer ball!"

"OMG! How'll she live without it 'til brunch tomorrow?"

Karen hurled the black and white ball, missing him by several feet, relieved that her mother's antique clock was unharmed when it bounced off.

By 9:30 PM, the house was restored. Terry pressed Karen's emaciated body against his chest, danced a few steps and dipped her back for a kiss.

"Don't let me fall, lover boy."

"Never!"

She reached up to caress his bald head, shaved to match her own. "Did you know that you've never once stayed up 'til midnight with me?"

"How 'bout a new resolution? We'll stay up together for the next forty-five."

"Ha— 'bout as likely as me making your breakfast at the butt crack of dawn!" She watched him prance and twirl like a 220-pound ballerina down the hallway to their bedroom and wondered how a New Year's Resolution could make forty-five more years feel like a promise they could keep.

Sitting alone in front of the TV, she watched the revelers in Times Square, tooted her horn and took another sip of champagne with a bite of chocolate cake. Making sweet memories one minute after watching the ball drop.