New Years Day feels tender this year. I let myself linger in bed a little longer this morning; not really wanting to move from old to new. The past two years held so much change, so much thrashing, trying to figure it out. On good days we were barely falling forward. So I don’t want to move too quickly. I want to wait there in my bed, holding my breath wishing I knew what the year held. The New Year seems to always hold this question in her hands, “What now?” I’m staring back at her with uncertainty, doubt, …