Z

The other day I asked my Canadian daughter-in-law, “Do little kids learn the ABC song in school?”

“Yes,” she replied, “and I know where you’re going with this.”

Indeed. I was heading for Zed.

“We sing ‘zee’,” she continued. “Zed wouldn’t rhyme.”

Here I am today, sitting by a cozy wood stove, while the weather outside is indeed frightful. Windy. -1°F.

And I’m at the end of the alphabet in this way-too-long self-inflicted alphabet challenge.

The Greek alphabet ends with omega. The Hebrew alphabet ends with tav. The Cyrillic alphabet ends with Я. We get zee, apparently even in Canada.

I like endings — good endings. You know the kind when you put the book down and are satisfied, like Max coming home from his voyage to where the Wild Things are and finds his supper still hot.

Z, I suppose, is a good ending. It’s as good an ending as I’m going to get.

But I love beginnings. 2023 — I can’t wait.