Every New Year’s Day I write a letter to myself. The first section is a short recap of the previous year, the bulk of the letter is focused on the goals, hopes and dreams that I have for myself and for my family in the coming year. When I’ve finished writing I read through the letter once, fold it carefully and place it inside a cigar box (Dutch Masters Presidents, 50 count) with others of its kind and there it sits in silence until the following New Year’s Day when I read the letter once again. I then get out a blank sheet of paper and begin the process anew.

I only open this box once a year, on New Year’s Day. I never, ever look inside at any other time. It’s a sacred time capsule; a portal to the past and a harbinger of the future. Strung together these letters would offer the reader a brief synopsis of my life over the past 25 or so years. I can’t recall exactly when I began writing these (I could verify the date but that would require me looking inside the box and of course I can’t do that because it’s not New Year’s Day yet!) I think however that the first letter was written sometime in the late 90s, there was a gap of a few years until I picked it up again for good in the early 2000s.

Writing this letter has become a way for me to reflect on the year that has just ended and to also look ahead at the year that’s just begun. When I finish the letter I think to myself, Man, I wonder what’s going to go down over the next 365 days? I can guess, hope and wonder but of course the future will reveal itself at its own pace, moment by moment. So much of what will happen will be out of my control. Will any of my hopes come to pass? Will I realize any of my goals?

There’s power in ritual, whether it’s personal or something performed with others. I never remember what’s written in the previous year’s letter so It’s always a revelation when I finally get to read it. Sometimes one or more of my hopes comes true. One year I had written that I wanted to find a way to get my writing out into the public. In that coming year I  started this blog, six years and nearly 200 essays later it’s still going strong.

The end of the year is naturally a time for nostalgic reflection and for looking ahead to what life holds in the future. I try not to get too sentimental or maudlin, I’m not an Auld Lang Syne kinda person. I’ve had many years of wild celebrations on New Year’s Eve dancing to the likes of the Grateful Dead and String Cheese Incident. I’ve also marked the end of the year in quieter, more intimate ways. When our kids were little we’d celebrate the “New York New Year” at a friend’s house (watch the ball drop on Times Square at 9pm) and be home and in bed by 10. For many years, Carol and I never saw midnight.

This year we’ll ring in 2026 at a small party with a group of our closest friends. There’ll be music and food, great conversation and lots of love. I’m starting to think about my letter and what I’ll write but right now it’s just a blank sheet of paper, the promise of a new year stretches out before me.