A Cup of Kindness

As a sort of personal ritual I would always make myself stay up all night so I could greet the sun as it rose on a brand new day. Nothing pagan to it in my opinion; I just felt like enjoying the first rays of light as they came over the horizon. Usually I would stay up just watching movies or playing video games; sometimes I would just read.

That New Years, I stayed up with Sasha. We weren't really fucking frentically like earlier in the night. Now, we were making love. We both agreed that more penetration was off the table at the moment. We just explored each other's bodies, instinctively doing whatever felt right to us. We frotted and rubbed on each other with care. We cuddled and caressed. Clutching each other tight, our beating hearts almost pounding as one, I told Sasha in no uncertain terms just how much I adored him. To my delight, he reciprocated in kind.

He gladly affirmed his feelings which made me fall for him further. We luxuriated in each other's presence - I cherished listening to his deep breaths, planting little kisses on his chest and stomach. Sasha in turn would pat my head and nibble at my ears, playfully encouraging me to kiss him again and again. In no time at all, Sasha drifted off to a peaceful rest in my loving arms.

I stayed awake, waiting for the rays of sunrise that I knew were coming soon. I was at a loss for words, overcome with emotion. A kind of dreamy, meditative state crept over me. It was an old, familiar friend - every New Years, it would come to me without fail - and I would always pay my respects to that feeling by reminiscing and reflecting.

As luck would have it, I had the perfect soundtrack running through my head as I gratefully meditated on the past year. A sound from an old classic Russian New Years film, The Irony of Fate. My mother's favorite film. The film was an enduring romantic comedy (we like many other post-Soviets watched it every New Years) that packed a bit more of a bite than saccharine Christmas movies.

But even more than the movie; the music spoke to me. The music recalled a sensation of both love and loss; capturing that distinct mood of a late New Years night - infused with an indescribable sense, one that never failed to both take my breath away and fill me with a sentimental comfort.

The sound would always play on repeat in my head on those last few hours before the sun rose and a new day would begin. In English, it was listed as Snow Over Leningrad by composer Mikael Tariverdiev. Beginning with swelling violins, twinkling bells quickly rang out a hauntingly beautiful, wistful melody. More instruments joined in as the song progressed, reinforcing the melody and climbing to a crescendo.

The music evoked a distinct feeling. Of wandering through whirling snow to find something that couldn't quite be found and yet - despite the pain, despite the cold, you had to keep going. To follow that intriguing melody, flush with the promise of a new day. I was moved to tears everytime I heard the piece. I was filled with gratitude to have experienced such a wonderful Novy God with Sasha in my bed.

As the first rays of the new day peeked through our window, I gave Sasha a kiss on the forehead. I wouldn't squander this opportunity. I would stay with Sasha as long as I could. Even til death do us part. That's been the only New Years resolution I ever kept.