Happy New Year!
I’ve written before about the Spanish tradition of eating twelve grapes at midnight, one for each month of the year ahead, and making a wish for that month as you do so. I like to do this on New Year’s Day.
I wished on grapes for my daughter’s birth and Obama’s election (and reelection), so I can tell you it’s very effective. My terrible memory has allowed me to forget most of the failed grapes, although there’s definitely one sitting in the White House. Today I’ll be chewing away, dreaming dreams for the months that are about to glide past.
Here’s one: for February’s grape, I will be wishing for my daughter to get a first-grade teacher she loves. And for November, well, I think you can guess. What will you be wishing for?
I’m a writer in San José, Costa Rica, on a year-long quest to share daily posts on inspiring people, places and ideas from my adopted home as a kind of tonic during a rough time in the world. Sign up (top right of this page) to receive a little dose of inspiration every weekday in your mailbox; tell a friend; check out past posts; and please connect with me on Instagram or Facebook! You can also find me churning out small, square poems on any topic under the sun (here on the site, on Instagram or Twitter).
It’s so interesting. Last night when Emma sent the voice message I was going to respond with the 12 grapes at midnight story that I experienced with my Spanish family when I lived with them. It seemed too long so I decided not to.
Sent from my iPhone
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