My family has been celebrating New Year’s Eve with LeAnn’s family since before my little brother was born. Ever since the eve of January 1, 1996, we’ve all gathered at my grandparents’ ranch to ring in the new year, with fellowship over food, games, and music. In the past fourteen years, I’ve only missed the New Year’s Eve party twice: the December after Merritt and I were married, and the year of “Y2K” when my family decided to go home before 1/1/00 came. Even the year that I got out of the hospital on Christmas Eve, we still made it to my grandparents’ for New Year’s Eve!

The guys used to start out the day with a game of football in the mud and cow pies. One year, the muddy football game was replaced by inner tubing in the snow. They must have become either older or smarter, because they have shied away from those escapades in recent years. No matter the weather, however, the guys always play a game of Monopoly which lasts half the evening. We girls tried in vain to hide the game, distract them with food, or beg them to skip it, but it was all to no avail: the Monopoly game must be completed before they could participate in the rest of the evening’s festivities. Only after someone had nearly taken over the bank could we talk them into joining us in a game of Pictionary or Dutch Blitz.

There was always plenty of food. Mrs. K. brought the pies. My mom made almond roca. Melissa and I even tried to make peanut brittle a time or two. We made up the Chex mix. Chips, dip, a veggie tray, and a few traditional salads complemented the mini meat and cheese sandwiches on rolls. Then there was the perennial favorite of “banana bungalosh:” a blend of mashed frozen bananas and juice served with 7-Up.

Usually the evening was not without time spent in the living room pouring over photo albums. The gentlemen always got in a good discussion or two on theology and politics. And there were always a few good-natured fights about who would do the dishes. Once in a while we were even the recipients of a special performance, in the form of humor or monologue.

We always rounded out the evening with a good ol’ jammin’ session: Melissa on the piano or bass, Abbie on the fiddle (sometimes joined by Aunt Terri and Papa, as well), Will or James on the banjo, James on the trumpet or Will on the saxophone, LeAnn’s brother Rhett on the cello, with a few guest appearances on the guitar, and always a few of the younger guys joining LeAnn’s Grandpa Cliff on the harmonica. From patriotic songs to folk music, we called it “cousin cacophony” for a reason. But we had fun making a joyful noise. It was beautiful to sit back and listen to the blend of voices and parts as we sang all the verses of the hymns and ballads.

We kept an eye on the clock while we were jamming, though, and when it got close to midnight the guys grabbed the blackpowder guns, we girls donned coats, and we all went outside to yell and holler and make too much noise at the stroke of midnight. There were usually a few more songs—and a few more pictures—to finish before everyone went their separate ways in the wee hours of the morning.

One of our longstanding traditions was the kiss picture: all the married couples were told to smooch long enough for all the shutters to click. It was always funny to see who stopped kissing too soon, or which person was looking at the camera instead of their spouse! But as I took the pictures, I was always looking forward to the day I could be one of the married couples in the kiss picture, instead of one of the singles taking the picture.

There was one year that we met at LeAnn’s grandparents’ home instead. I remember that time specifically, as I watched with delight the sparks flying between LeAnn and my cousin Robert over a game of Guesstures. It was just a few years later that Robert and LeAnn announced their engagement in 2002, wedding the families who have been friends for more than 40 years (sometime I’ll have to get LeAnn to tell you their whole story). I remember watching that next year as Robert moved from being one of the guys shooting guns and yelling, to kissing his new bride out under the stars as the clock struck midnight. December 31, 2004, brought the special announcement that Robert and LeAnn’s first little one was on the way!

The next year, I was thrilled to have Merritt fly in for the New Year’s party of December 2005, introducing him to my special friends and family. Only two years later, Merritt and I were returning to the ranch for another New Year’s party, this time with our baby girl! Last year, we got to meet Robert and LeAnn’s newest little guy, who was born into the family just weeks after his grandmother went home to Heaven.

This year, my cousin Robert has a new job that takes his family to a new town, a new church—and far away from the long-held family traditions. Merritt’s and my own growing family makes it harder to travel—and we know we probably won’t be making many more such trips on future New Year’s.

We knew it couldn’t last forever. We knew eventually we’d be pulled in too many directions, the miles separating us too much for everyone to meet back at the ranch on New Year’s Eve. In fact, LeAnn’s Grandma Marcyenne was the first to break up our party: she was singing with the angels last New Year’s Eve.

This New Year’s Eve, Merritt and I will have just returned home from celebrating in my brother’s wedding in Virginia and then spending Christmas at my childhood home (another break in tradition—growing up, nearly every Christmas was spent at Papa and Grandma’s ranch). I hear rumors that the newlyweds might be able to make the traditional New Year’s Eve party. And my cousin James has been bringing a sweet young lady to the party for a few years now. But some of the rest of us not-so-newlywed—but no less in love—couples will be far away from the ranch this year.

It’s time to start some new traditions, make some new memories. I don’t know what LeAnn’s plans are—most likely, they will include unpacking boxes! But Merritt and I hope to begin some traditions with his family, inviting people to our farm for a hymnsing and some games on New Year’s Eve.

I doubt we’ll rival the musical presentations that were done at the ranch. No one can play the piano like my cousin Melissa. And no one in Merritt’s family can play the harmonica with their mouth, let alone with their nose, like some in my family have been known to do. The practicality of partying until 2 or 3 in the morning is questionable when there are little people who are ready for baths and bed much earlier. Perhaps one of our new traditions will be going to bed before midnight! Regardless of when we go to bed, we’d better choose carefully whom we invite to the parties on our farm, in case some of our children should grow to love each other through the next fifteen years of celebrating New Year’s together. All too soon, my girls will be my age, and I want their memories of times together on New Year’s to be as special as mine are of the past 15 years.

This year on New Year’s Eve, LeAnn and I won’t be with all our relatives celebrating the longtime traditions of singing hymns and shooting guns as the clock strikes midnight. We will be far from the homes we loved, and the night will be far different from the traditions in our memories. But we will be with our nearest and dearest: our husbands and our children. When the clock strikes midnight, hopefully the little ones will all be sleeping, and we’ll be welcoming in the New Year by kissing our husbands and letting them know that we wouldn’t go back, we’d rather be with them.

And it only takes a moment remembering all those New Year’s Eves without anyone to kiss to remind me that there is no where else, no one else with whom I’d rather be spending New Year’s Eve.

Wishing you a wonderful New Year’s Eve making many memories as you celebrate traditions new and old…