New Year's Eve in Port Stewart

In a Northern Irish coastal village, in one of three pubs in town, last night four friends and I welcomed the new year. Outside, the British Isles were experiencing 80 MPH winds and many new year's celebrations were canceled due to the weather. Yet the faithful few, all decked out in glitter and makeup (that was the crowd--I myself was in my pj's), braved the wind and needles of rain to drink in 2007 and fake the words to "Auld Lang Syne." Friends, you can have your NYC and Syndey, Australia on New Year's-- give me Port Stewart any day.
After we left, a dare to take a dip at the beach led us to the Strand, a long strip of sandy coastline bordered by rolling green hills and warm, twinkling lights. We drove the car onto the beach and the boys ran into the low tide up to their ankles, while Rachel snapped shots of them in the glow of the headlights. The wind was still strong, and as I jumped out of the car, everything in me cringed and tensed. But I resisted the urge to jump back into the warmth. I stood up straight and drank in the wildness and freedom of the densely dark, windy, freezing night. A beach in Northern Ireland, thirty minutes past 2006, friends and hope and peace and beauty, in the middle of a wild storm.

Welcome, welcome, 2007.