The Important Lesson I Learned from My New Year's Date

Last year I found myself with a choice between two different dates for New Year’s Eve. Little did I know, the one I ended up choosing would set the tone for how my whole year would go.

By the way, both “dates” were plants. (But not the kind of plant that is called a “date”, ironically.)

I was visiting my parents’ house for Christmas 2024, admiring the recent floral acquisitions resting on the table in the screened room attached to the back of their house.

“Would you like one?” my mom asked, coming up softly behind me.

I realized I did need a “date” for New Year’s the following week.

Spending New Year’s Eve alone at home with a potted plant has been a proud (?) tradition of mine, off and on, since the age of 19. That was the first year when I complained to my parents, “Why do I have to be stuck home alone with a potted plant??”

My father assured me, “It won’t be this way forever.”

Well… He was only partly right. Because most of the time, it has been this way. Forever.

There was a period when I spent New Year’s Eve at home because I actually did have romantic partners. But they didn’t want to go out for the holiday and they didn’t want me to go out. And I felt more alone with these partners than when I was by myself.

Then there was a period when I found my freedom, and I was determined to go out for New Year’s, even if I was alone in a crowded club full of strangers. Those times did prove to be more fun and less lonely than the times I spent with “partners” who were wrong for me. But still not my New Year’s dream.

I can think of maybe two years, in total, in which I actually did have a date for New Year’s with a partner that was fun to be with and actually cared about me.

But the vast majority of years, especially recently, have been me alone, at home, with a potted plant. Even my chances of seeing fireworks are slim, unless one of my neighbors lights illegal ones across the street.

So at this time last year, December 2024, I chose the plant I felt would be the right “date” for me.

Both plants were amaryllis, and both were healthy. One of them had already blossomed with strikingly beautiful flowers. The other one was simply a base of new leaves, just beginning to grow. Which do you think I chose?

In one, the beauty could already be seen. The flowers were there, and it simply needed to be tended so it could continue to flourish.

In the other, there was no way to know what it would become. There was a picture of what the flowers were supposed to look like, but my experience with plants has taught me that - just like people - sometimes you don’t get exactly the results you were expecting.

But I was drawn to that plant with no flowers. I wanted the adventure and excitement of cultivating it and finding out how it turned out. I knew I could be happy with it, no matter the results.

I expected it to flower by New Year’s, or soon after. It did not.

I researched all the information about proper care for it, and tended to it faithfully. It grew and grew, producing gigantic, voluminous, vibrant leaves. It basically started taking over my living room. But it never produced a single bloom.

It was healthy, it was happy (as far as I could tell), and it was growing. In fact, it was getting much, much bigger than I expected based on the literature. But it was not flowering.

Several months later - it had still never flowered.

Supposedly amaryllis need to go through a resting phase where they hibernate underground, then start growth anew. My mom suggested that I turn it over to her for this next period of its life. I did so.

On Christmas 2025, I visited Ms. Amaryllis (the plant’s name, not my mom’s name) in my mother’s garden. She had been stripped of her leaves and buried, a simple bulb, beneath the soil, for some months (the plant, not my mom).

Now, one year after our first meeting, Ms. Amaryllis was again producing healthy new green shoots, miraculously coming back to life! Maybe this year she will produce flowers. Or maybe she won’t.

As I stood admiring the beauty of a fresh restart in life when it is least expected, my mom came up softly behind me.

“Do you want one with flowers this year?” she asked.

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes!!”

It’s wonderful to be a dreamer, to see the potential for things to blossom. But I no longer want mere possibility to blind me to reality. And I’m not just talking about plants.

Youth, health, and time are no longer on my side. Navigating the world now comes with enough challenges that I don’t feel the need to add more.

This year, I’m done wasting my precious energy on dreams that never come true. Instead, I’m going in with eyes wide open, seeing what is really there, and directing my precious efforts where they will be rewarded. (Still not just talking about plants.)

We can make a fresh start anytime we want. But New Year’s Eve gives us a little extra push to hit that reset button. It’s like the pulse of nature that guides a bulb to stop hiding underground and suddenly, courageously burst up into the sunlight. And maybe even flower!

As we stand on this precipice of new beginnings, what are your intentions for the year ahead? What mindset will you embody, to carry you forward into fulfilling your dreams?

If my words resonated with you, please share.

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