When the fireworks went out, I closed my windows.

The end and start of a year in the Gregorian calendar is a big deal to almost everyone.

Fire will burn in the heart of believers who will weep, scream, shout or do all three. As they dedicate their new year in the hands of God, who may or may not be moved by theatrics.

People will fill their bellies with fermented poison and share a wet kiss with someone who may or may not end up blocked in a few months to come.

I don’t judge.

For most years, I spent my New Year Countdown, cutting carrots in my mother’s hot living room, while we both watch Arise TV. Viewing countries in different time zones, blow up fireworks as they enter their new year.

I honestly preferred that to the times I spent praying and shouting in church.

Partying?

Ah yes!, toasting with a drink to the new year is never a bad idea in my books.

But 11:39, Dec 31st 2022, I was sprawled on my sister’s bed watching a nollywood crime series on Showmax.

When I heard the fireworks, I got up and closed my windows. “Noise” my brain registered. I went back to my entertainment.

29 minutes into the new year, that’s when I bothered to check the time and my instant thought was to wish an acquaintance a happy birthday.

Am I being pessimistic? Maybe.

Bad vibes? Maybe.

Lacking a dose of alacrity? Sure!

I didn’t nurture the urge to shout or scream or celebrate with high euphoria, because doing all that doesn’t guarantee a thing.

So yes, a happy fantastic new year to you.

Nothing has changed except a day in the calendar.

No matter your new year ritual, no matter your new year spirit. What will be, will be.

This is when you fling the tomatoes 🍅 at me as I get off stage.