Thoughts on the way home for the New Year

I woke early today, even though I did not think I was especially excited about going home. Somehow the trip had still upset my body clock. I heard an alarm I usually sleep through. Instead of turning over for a few more minutes, I felt restless; the cat was disturbing my sleep too.

I do not feel much festive spirit this year. Some people say the New Year hardly feels like a holiday, and I understand them. To me, it feels quieter than Christmas in the West. Perhaps that reflects a year in which I have not achieved what I hoped, the change in who I am becoming, or the wider economy. I am not upset so much as trying to describe how it feels.

The journey home is long. First comes an ordinary train, then a high-speed train 🚄: the hard part before the easy part. We will sit in hard seats through the day and night, changing trains tomorrow. As evening approached, my companion repeatedly suggested upgrading to a sleeper berth. I refused. “We are young and strong,” I said. “Let someone who needs the berth more take it.” I almost moved myself with those words, though I knew I was also trying to save money. “Do not choose hardship for its own sake,” my companion said. I replied with a speech about endurance. He shook his head and rested on the table.

A song I often heard at university brought back memories. It has been almost a year since graduation. That feels both real and dreamlike. Looking through the window, I realized the world outside had gone dark. In the glass I saw myself: my fringe no longer covered my forehead, and my face looked steadier than it did last year. I am not as full of fire about the year ahead, but I have a little more confidence.

The world of work has not been quite what I imagined. It has not left me without hope, either. If that is so, what can I not face? In a way, it is interesting.