My New Years

My New Years

Jomari Davis Ms. Granger

Essay 9/01/2009

New Year

The smells are familiar to anyone: car exhaust, motor oil, and Chinese food.
Yet, it’s all clean on January 1st like someone took a big bottle of cleaner fluid to the streets. The fragrant smell of flowers (mostly roses) penetrates the gentle night air, letting me know that there are couples among me here. My coffee in hand lets me stay up till the desired hour.
What I see isn’t much different than what a native New Yorker sees every Saturday evening at times square. Packed with people, I barely make out my father’s expensive coat. People are coming in a variety of clothing: some come in elegant dress, others in only a pair of comfortable jeans and worn shirts. A few homeless, many tourists. And….what! Wait, I think I see some guy in a lady liberty costume! The flashing light of the multiple advertisements distracts me until I see it. The only thing that makes people from all nations join together in celebration as they watch it fall. The countdown ball. Covered in a frenzy of reflective colors and glass, catches my attention and everyone else’s.
What I touch is my father’s hand. While the whole world is saying good bye to the old year I feel my brother pressing up against me for a better view of this memorable moment that I will keep forever. The restlessness of my feet is overpowering me and I start to bounce up and down. I hold on to my father and brother: one hand rough, the other smooth, and jump into the New Year.


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