Epilogue
New Year’s Eve . . . Again

So grateful for what I’ve learned since last New Year’s

Happy that gratitude changed an ordinary year into the best one ever

Eager to buy my gratitude journal . . . for next year

As the December days got darker and New Year’s approached, I realized that I didn’t want my year of living gratefully to end. In terms of events, nothing special had happened since the party I’d attended last year, when I made my plan at midnight. I was married to the same person, living in the same place, busy with the same career. The fantasies I’d had a year ago of winning the lottery or moving to Maui hadn’t materialized. But my instinct last New Year’s that it wouldn’t be the events that defined my year but my response to them had been right.

By living gratefully, I’d had the happiest twelve months I could remember.

Ron also marveled at how much fun we’d had this year doing nothing in particular. Being grateful and appreciating each other had bonded us more closely than ever.

We got to put our good spirits to the test on a Monday morning as we drove down from our weekend house. A freezing rain had caused a mess on the highway, and the eighty minutes to Ron’s office stretched to more than two hours. As we sat in unmoving traffic, Ron knew patients would be gathering in his waiting room, and I texted an editor that I’d miss our meeting. The time kept ticking. We could feel bad for ourselves, or . . .

“I know it looks like a bad day, but want to think of reasons to be grateful?” I asked.

“You start,” said Ron, gripping the wheel.

“I’m grateful that my husband put on a nice cologne this morning. It’s making it much nicer to be trapped in the car.”

He smiled and seemed to relax a little. “Grateful that I won’t get a speeding ticket today.”

“And I’m grateful you don’t need gas.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, glancing at his dashboard. “But I’m grateful the red light isn’t on so you don’t know it.”

We both laughed. We’d had enough practice this year being positive and playful that we fell into it easily now. We definitely knew the negatives of being stuck in traffic, but our bright-side banter saved us from frustration.

When we finally arrived, I leaned over and gave Ron a hug.

“We made it. Nobody got hurt. No accidents in the bad weather. I appreciate that you got me here safely.”

“Thanks for your good attitude. That’s what made this year so special,” he said.

As I got out of the car and put up my umbrella, I realized that not long ago, the same drive would have been unbearably tense. I would have been second-guessing (we should have left earlier . . . why do we stay until Monday morning anyway?) and Ron anxious. Now I understood that we can do our darnedest to make events go the way we want—but sometimes they just won’t. Gratitude had given me a way of viewing the good or bad through a different lens.

Even after this year, I would never sign on to the idea that everything happens for the best. The tragic, sad, unexpected, and irritating do take place, and our lives are not necessarily better for them. But our only choice is how to respond. Instead of being masterful at misery, we can become experts at gratitude. After a year of focusing on the bright side, I knew it was a lot more satisfying to be grateful than wrapped up in your own pain.

At the beginning of the year, the marriage and family therapist Dr. Brian Atkinson had told me that “the relentless pursuit of positivity” could change my neural pathways and rewire automatic responses. A whole slew of studies showed that taking the time to have loving, giving, and grateful feelings could change how your brain functioned in emotion-related areas. I didn’t have a brain scan to prove it, but my mind definitely made different connections now.

My friends who had been hearing me talk (and talk) about gratitude all year were starting to see results themselves. My dear friend Susan continued to work on huge business deals, and her relentless, hard-driving style hadn’t changed (thank goodness). But she called me after a family vacation, and before bothering to say “hello,” she blurted, “You were right about gratitude making marriage work. Why did it take us this long to figure it out?”

Susan had spent the vacation appreciating her husband—and she suddenly felt differently toward the man she’d been married to for ages. “You know what I realized? It takes a certain amount of confidence to appreciate what you have. It’s much easier to always wonder what you’re missing.”

She told me that her husband was a smart cookie, he had her back, and she could fully trust him. “I’m grateful for that. I wish I’d focused on it earlier.”

I told her that second-guessing wasn’t allowed. It didn’t matter where you’d been—only where you now planned to go.

—

Shortly after our Monday morning drive, I reminded Ron that the upcoming New Year’s Eve would be the last official night of my year of living gratefully. It would be my chance to think about what had changed since last year. Was life better? Had my plan worked? Was I happier this New Year’s than last?

“No pressure to make it a perfect night,” I said, teasing.

“I don’t feel any,” he assured me. “But where should we celebrate?” He suggested going to the opera or a concert, dancing at the Rainbow Room or running the midnight race in Central Park. I shook my head, so he tried again. A downtown nightclub? A party in the city with friends?

“I just want to be with you. In the country, by the fireplace, with a bottle of champagne.”

“I’ll get Veuve Clicquot,” he offered expansively, mentioning the expensive champagne I usually liked.

“Ten-buck prosecco is fine,” I said. Since I’d learned that it was experiences, not stuff, that made us grateful, the brand of bubbles wasn’t going to matter.

Ron had to work the last day of December, and our children were traveling, but I took out my best china and went to the grocery store with a lightness in my step. I felt a certain expectancy in the air, and I realized that big changes can happen when the calendar flips—but only if you make them. By paying attention, thinking positively, and reframing experiences, I had put myself in a different place this year than last. I had become the happier person I wanted to be.

I made a simple dinner of grilled salmon and asparagus, and we ate by the light of the crystal candlesticks our children had bought as a present for the holidays. Ron made a crackling fire and we cuddled on the couch with tea and dessert. (My favorite chocolate cookies, approved by the Amazing Gratitude Diet.) After a while, we turned on the movie Magic in the Moonlight, with dapper Colin Firth and charming Emma Stone. By the end, the science-minded Firth character has given up his grumbly ways, found optimism, and come to believe that the world has some kind of magic.

As the final credits rolled, I buried my head in Ron’s shoulder and started to cry.

“Come on, the movie wasn’t that good,” Ron said, stroking my hair.

“I know, but it reminded me of this whole year. I also found the magic. Last year, I couldn’t wait for the ball to drop. Now I’m dreading it because I don’t want this year of gratitude to end.”

“You can keep being grateful next year,” Ron offered.

“I want to be more grateful,” I said fiercely.

At a couple of minutes before midnight, Ron flipped the TV to New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. I pictured myself standing at the party a year ago (much better dressed) watching the same show. Then I had been dreary and world-weary, wondering what I could possibly do to make myself happier twelve months hence.

Well, I’d found out. Gratitude had transformed an ordinary year into a glorious one. Everyone watching the revelry in Times Square tonight wondered what the New Year would bring. I wanted to tell them that they didn’t have to wonder—they could decide for themselves. Bring the right mood and spirit to each day and you can create the best year of your life. Now that’s a real reason to shout in excitement at midnight.

Gratitude had changed me, and I suddenly had an image that gratitude could also transform the whole world. However dismal global events may be, looking for the bright spots allows us to survive and move on. Gratitude spreads quickly to other people. Charles Darwin believed that the societies with the most compassion are the best able to flourish. Acts of kindness are noticed, reciprocated, passed forward. If we put good into the world, maybe, just maybe, it starts to be returned.

As the countdown reached five seconds, I wiped away another tear. I wanted to stop the clock and hold on to all the goodness of this year.

But time doesn’t stop. Moments pass quickly and so do years. The biggest regret most of us have in looking back is thinking of all the time wasted being unhappy or angry. I couldn’t promise that I had fully embraced each of the 31,536,000 seconds of this year. But I’d filled as many as possible with gratitude. I hadn’t completed every page of my gratitude journal, but I would buy a new one now and keep it by my side. Gratitude was ingrained in me, but we all need reminders.

Happy New Year!

The Waterford crystal sphere landed, music blared, confetti flew. Our scene at home was a little softer.

“I love you,” Ron whispered, holding me tightly.

“I love you. I’m so grateful to be with you, right here and right now,” I said.

We kissed, and a few minutes into the New Year, I realized I had no more tears. I suddenly felt buoyant and gave a little smile. Bring on the New Year. I was ready. Gratitude has no end.