Something about the arrival of a new year can put a crack in your wall of fear. As trite as it may sound, it really can provide a fresh start to begin anew.
More than 20 years since my first vote, I am again mired in an election with Clintons and Bushes and the billionaire, Buchananite Reform Party figure of Donald Trump.
When my brother graduated from college in Boston, we made a beer run and picked up Dogfish Head IPA for his celebratory party. I had it again when I married, and again when I saluted the birth of my firstborn.
I sat there waiting for the real part of me to taste the wafer, but it never did. I thought maybe there was something wrong with that part of me.
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