I may not still be awake at midnight, to see the New Year in. Sometimes I am, sometimes I'm not. Thinking about all my New Year's Eves, I remember an exciting one at My Father's Mustache in Montreal when I was 20, when I was in love and happy and everyone seemed to be the same. A few very tearful ones later as my then-boyfriend and I tried to figure out our future. That was a long, slow, painful breakup. A solitary New Year's Eve in Capetown, South Africa where someone tried to break into the house. A man died that night. A New Year's Eve spent flying across the Atlantic, back to England from a holiday with my sister and her family. Landing at Heathrow to the aftermath of a huge snowstorm. Laurie's first New Year's Eve, 1979 into 1980, where my English hosts took me along "first footing" to a neighbor's house. Our last all-family holiday with my dad, stepmom, sister and her family in Kauai with a New Year's