Hollow baubles of every color hung upon ribbons dangling from the ornate ceiling above. Soft light glinted along smooth and glittery spheres. These hung at various heights, filling the massive old ballroom with color. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors ran around the walls, ornaments reflected forever.

From some ribbons dangled nothing. Beneath them lay shattered shards of baubles, plain silver inside. The remains of someone else’s gamble. These crunched beneath my shoes as I wandered the ballroom, looking for my own bet. What would my final selection contain? New year wish? Or new fear?

Somewhere on the other side of the room, a thin scream rose. Other people nearby, pondering their own choices, glanced in the direction of the sound. But the baubles huddled so thick together, we could not see. Perhaps someone close by would help, but we all knew the risk of tapping the wrong ornament. The screamer was on their own.

A few ornament remains held hints of what they had contained. Some puffs of golden dust. Others crushed spider carcasses, torn divorce documents, hospital tubes, foreclosure notices. I shuddered, hoping my fear wouldn’t somehow involve needles, but knowing it would.

After circling and circling the room, I at last noticed a bauble in the very center. Deep blue with a simple gold sunburst emblazoned across half the sphere. Resonant. I stared at it a long time, hand upraised. Wondering if I dared.

I could walk away. Yet, if I did, I would always wonder.

I tapped the bauble.

Cracks shot across the surface and the whole thing crumpled inward, wadding up like paper. I waited a moment for it to fall, but it hung condensed on the end of its ribbon. Looking like used chewing gum.

Ah. At last I got it. Not needles, it seemed, but meaninglessness.

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Take chances in 2020.

Bring the Wanderer Home

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