7.

7 was our magic number.

With apologies to my Gen X brothers and sisters who grew up watching Schoolhouse Rock, I have to disagree with the song.  For us, 7 was the magic number.

7 New Year's Eves spent together.

7 magical kisses at midnight - ending one year and beginning another together.

I looked up the reason why we kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve, and I found several theories - who you kiss is who you spend the year with; it brings luck for the couple; but my favorite (thank you Reader's Digest) was the kiss strengthens the bond between the two sharing that moment.

Couldn't agree more, RD.

We throw phrases around like BFF, Ride or Die, Bestie and (the one I used for Sean) Favorite.

He was, you know.

He was my Favorite.

My favorite concert partner.
My favorite travel companion.
My favorite person to text and talk to.

My favorite person.

So my Favorite and I spent 7 New Year's Eves together, and each of them were special in their own way.

There was our first one.
The one we spent in NYC seeing a Beatles cover band where yours truly had a wee bit too much champagne and had the be pulled back by the belt loop of her jeans when one of the band members broke out a tambourine and I made a beeline for the stage to indulge in my Stevie Nicks fantasy.
The ones where we hosted parties in the Wayne house.

And the ones where it was just us two. 
(And Lexi, obviously.)

One of those midnights was spent watching the Bee Gees documentary on HBO and the other midnight landed smack in the middle of a Yellowstone marathon. 

I spent today watching both.

Last year, Sean was sick.

He was a diabetic and suffered from gastroparesis.  It's a miserable disease and painful, too.  He would try his best to sleep through as much as he could during a flare up.  Last year he was in incredible pain and spent almost the entire day sleeping.

I spent the evening on the couch, watching Twin Peaks.

Not the greatest of New Years, but we were together, just us two.

I dozed off watching tv and woke up to Sean sitting in his Key West Chair, watching me sleep, with music playing on his phone - The Cast's version of Auld Lang Syne (the only version I like.) He had muted the tv and was sitting quietly. 

I looked at the clock and it was about two minutes to midnight.

He came over, sat down next to me and kissed me.

If I had known it was going to be our last midnight kiss I would have brushed my teeth first.

He told me he had set his alarm to make sure we said goodbye and hello to the years together.

Just like we had for the last 6.

Tonight I'm doing it alone, by choice.

I could have spent the evening with friends or family, but I needed to spend this one here, in our last home together.  Next December 31 I'll be in a new home (no clue where yet) so it was important to me do this.

My Aunt Kathy referred to this New Year's Eve as climbing a mountain and it's a mountain I need to conquer on my own.

I probably should have gotten some special mountain climbing, shit kicking shoes for this one.

I'm not a mushy, sappy person, but I do spend a moment or two at midnight thinking of all the things I have to be grateful for.  Considering the year I had, one might  think that this year that list would be pretty fucking short. 

But I have a lot, actually, that I am grateful for.
I have my family. 
My friends. 
The amazing people who go above and beyond to support me - who call and text and invite and show up, unannounced, banging at my door when I don't answer their calls or texts, to make sure I'm ok. 
The Reese's Fairy.
A job that may drive me insane, but that I do love.
A bunch of little people who think I'm not entirely uncool for a grown up.
Lexi.

And the most wonderful memories of 7 perfect New Year's kisses from my Favorite.