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First Column of the New Year

The first column of a new year, and who can say where 2026 will take us? I certainly don’t know, but I can think of a few suggestions.

I decided to kick things off in a whole new way this time around. Well, new to me, anyway. What I actually did isn’t new at all. It’s an ancient ritual that’s been practiced for centuries during the darkest days of the year. The minute I saw it, I knew I wanted to give it a go.

It goes by several different names: The Ritual of 13 Wishes, The 12 Nights of Christmas, 12 Magical Nights, Rauhnächte, and not only are there varying opinions on what to call it, but different people all over the world carry out the ritual in different ways. Even if you’ve never heard of it, the basic idea is pretty familiar.

The ritual is rooted in a common New Year tradition of reflection and hope for good fortune in the months to come.

Here’s how it works: before nightfall on the winter solstice, you sit down and compile a list of 13 wishes, not resolutions, but things personal to you, things that you’d like to see come to pass, things you truly desire.

One by one, you write them out, and the guidance I found said each of the 13 things should be written as if they have already happened, not as wishes, but as fully formed facts.

Once the list is complete, you cut the wishes into strips, and each one is folded up and placed in a jar, bowl, or box. (I squirreled mine away in an old wooden box of my mother’s. It has a rough-hewn raccoon sitting on top. Push down his tail, and the lid slides up, the raccoon’s front paws move forward, and it ends up looking as if he is peering inside. She used to keep fun-size Kit Kat candy bars in it.)

Scroll to the end for a video of the box in action with a special guest star appearance from Fizz.

Beginning on the night of the solstice, you pick out one of the wishes and burn it, blindly, not knowing which wish it is. You repeat the process for 12 nights until there is just one wish left. Only on the very last night do you take the very last piece of paper out of its hiding place and read it.

As the tradition goes, the wishes you burn are let go with the trust that they’ve been noted and that they’ll be taken care of, handled by the universe. The last one, though, the one you read, that is the wish you are responsible for handling in the upcoming year.

I really liked this. There’s something quite comforting about outsourcing my dreams to the great beyond. It’s also fun to light things on fire, especially when it gets dark so early.

Night by night, I watched the flames dance as whatever wish I’d selected was reduced to ash, being careful not to set off smoke alarms, of course. (Something I learned for next year: make the pieces of paper smaller.) I would always wonder which one had burned, not that I could remember all 13 and I didn’t think to keep a master list. I didn’t mind that, though, and it made the final night all the more interesting.

Some wishes came very easily, but completing a full list proved challenging, not just for me but for the friends and family who agreed to join me. Who knew it could be so difficult to name 13 things you really want? I eventually sought some guidance online and found “keep it simple” to be a common refrain along with “don’t overthink it.” (Too late.)

When it came time to see which wish I would be responsible for tending this year, I gently pressed the raccoon’s tail for the last time, and he peered over to watch me take the last wish from the box. I thought I could guess which one would be left, and then I unfolded it.

#13: I am hopeful. I am helpful. I am brave.

I blinked at my own handwriting, having no memory of ever having written those words. It was the last wish I had come up with, and it made me grateful to have thought to include the numbers.

“Keep it simple,” I thought.

I smiled, taped the paper to a page in my journal for safekeeping, and wouldn’t you know, early days, and the wish has already required tending this year.

This essay originally appeared in my column in the January 8, 2026 edition of the Perry Herald in Perry, NY.