The expectation of having a date and someone to smooch at midnight puts New Year's Eve right up there with Valentine's Day as a day of dread for some of my single friends.  But I look forward to this day every year,  ever since my neighborhood friends came up with our New Year's Eve tradition of celebrating together about eight years ago. 

Anne and Larry started the tradition by inviting neighbors for a turkey dinner eight years ago, and have continued to host.  They live around the corner from me on the next street.  Last year illness at their house meant that we gathered at Mary and Dave's, up the street, instead.  Only Chuck and Laurel have to drive -- the rest of us are within a block.  No worries about drinking and driving.    Some of our grown kids have moved away from the 'hood, but many of them join us for the early part of the evening, because they want to get in the turkey dinner. 

Lots of groups of people get together to celebrate the New Year, but our group that happens to be neighbors has formed a bond that's uncommon in this fast-paced world where many people don't know the people who live next door or up the street, and I don't take it for granted.  Several times a week I am thankful that we happened to end up here with these neighbors when we moved in twenty years ago. 

We have many things in common besides our street addresss.  We're all baby boomers and we all voted for Obama. Four of the group are teachers,  three work for social  services programs, two for different branches of the government,  and two for for-profit companies.  Our kids went to public schools together.  When my daughter worked for a pizza restaurant, she extended the family discount on food to Kayla, her "aunt" who lives up the block. 

Kayla and Andy's oldest son is in between my girls in age.  He and I bonded on a May day when my youngest daughter, Claire,  was celebrating her 11th birthday with friends from her 6th grade class, and Jarrod, an 8th grader, and his friends  were having a water fight across the street. It turned into the older kids versus the 6th grader, and they were filling water balloons from the faucet on the side of my house. I leaned over the back porch to say, "Don't trample my flowers!" and caught a water balloon (thrown by Jarrod and  intended for Claire)  on the side of my face.  I laughed and wasn't upset, but he was mortified -- we didn't know each other as well at the time. "I got the mom!"  he said, and looked like he wanted to run away.  Instead he apologized, and continued to apologize whenever I saw him that summer, which is how we started talking and got to know each other, and he became sort-of the brother my girls never had.  

I'm the only one who's divorced, but this group doesn't have a Noah's Ark mentality about "couples only."  Last year I had a date, but this year things are up in the air with him. I'm not worried about feeling  judged or out of place this year without him. He's the one who will miss out on the good food, drinks, and company, not to mention singing Auld Lang Syne accompanied by Mike's bagpipes at midnight on the deck. 

Time to put on my party dress (jeans.) I don't want to be late for dinner.