January 5, 2016

 

Dear Hildie:

 

Late Thursday, as the New Year approached, I was feeling pretty melancholy. Ever since Mr. Schreiber, the neighborhood piper, moved away and then died, New Years have been dreary for me, and I suspect for a lot of others around here. We go out, shoot a sky rocket at the stroke of midnight, and then go back inside. There seemed very little to celebrate, and I could only think of the loss of a beloved friend, the perpetual wars and killings, and the endless succession of midnights until the final dissolution. The fact that I had a bad cold made it all the worse. I only wanted to repair to my bed and shut it all out. MM claimed she heard a pipe somewhere but I was sure she only said it to bolster my spirits. I didn’t even break out a small bottle of champagne, as I have for years, to ritually celebrate the changing of the years.

 

Then, from somewhere, I heard it, too—The unmistakable sound of Auld Lange Syne, and the sound was growing louder! I rushed out in my shirtsleeves and there, passing the house, was a mob of revelers, following a kilted man with a bagpipe. I followed them to Mr. Schreiber’s old house, where the piper played Amazing Grace, and the revelers were invited inside, as Mr. and Mrs. Schreiber used to do. Mirable dictu! The world was not lost at all! There was hope! I went to bed feeling that, if all was not exactly right with the world, it was at least survivable.

 

Happy New Year!

 

Love,

M