Lana Maryé Morelli

“I (squeeze), Love (squeeze), You (squeeze).” Hands have always held a bit of importance in our family. We have a code of “Three Squeezes” something we routinely do as we kissed each other goodbye. Something I did as I ran out the door with friends or my boyfriend. “See you later,” (Squeeze, Squeeze Squeeze). Something that I never paid much attention to. It was just a tradition, a habit, a routine for us. One of the many quirks that families have. But  everything turned upside down when my father was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) fighting for his life. When change is anticipated, we welcome it—A graduation, an engagement, a new house, a new car, an arrival of a baby or a new job.  In those instances we celebrate change. But when change comes abruptly and unexpected, we want to hide from it, only to find out there is no where to hide. That’s how I felt anyway when my father was hospitalized and put into a coma. I wanted to hide. I wanted to sink into myself,

New Years Eve…the holiday we love to hate, and hate to love. It’s interesting though that it gets that much attention, considering it is such a low-maintenance holiday. Like Thanksgiving or Fourth of July it requires no gift-giving or card buying. Most people don’t have a signature New Years Eve dish or cookie. The only effort this holiday requires is showing up and celebrating…yet we still complain?! Although we don’t have a tangible obligation of something to; buy, bring, make or bake, there is an intangible stress that hovers around NYE. I remember when I turned 21, I had some innate need to go out every Friday and Saturday night. I had waited my whole life to be “legal” and go to the bar/club, so I made it my duty to get dressed up and hit the town every weekend. I felt that if I staying in I was acting ungrateful for the fact that I now had nothing holding me back. I built up the big 2-1 in my head for so long, that I had to make the most of it. At first, it wasn’t a