Pete the Marshmallow

 I'm really not sure how it became tradition, but it did. 

At least a portion of every New Years Eve night is dedicated to playing Don't Eat Pete. It's confusing, because Eliza is the one who remains adamant that we play, yet she hates the game the most. She's not big on surprise outbursts. Especially if said outbursts include every other person at the table screaming in her face as she tries to eat something sweet.

But even though none of us actually love the game, somehow it's the game that gets us all laughing. Perhaps Eliza knows what she's doing after all.

The rest of the night included all sorts of other games, too,

ping pong,

and my personal favorite, this moment where Timothy was curled up on the couch reading this book.

Brian compiled all of my writings of our courtship, and added some of his own, into this book. It's delightful to read and remember, and it's heart-warming to see our kids enjoying it, too. It's a story of our beginning, and theirs.

I couldn't see what today would look like when I married Brian. 

That beginning seems long ago. 

In my heart I held dreams. 

Promises.

Aspirations.

The magic of possibility.

Like a tight bud waiting to bloom, my life started to unfold, and I couldn't have known then just how incredibly beautiful the flower of our life together would become.

The beginning of each year feels a little like that. 

A tight bud of whispered promises. 

My dreams take flight. 

My aspirations ignite. 

The magic of possibility begins to dance once again. 

And I watch through the months as my Year Flower blooms.

I wonder what this year's flower will look like.

Whether it's beautiful or interesting or delicate or sturdy, one thing will be certain. Pete the marshmallow will be there at the end of its bloom to celebrate.