Champagne Punch — A Toast for the New Year When You’re Carrying Too Much to Name

New Year. New nothing. The calendar turns and the world expects you to feel renewed, refreshed, reformed, and I feel none of those things. I feel the same dread that's been sitting in my stomach since October, the same love that won't let me look away from what's coming, the same stubborn refusal to name it because naming it makes it real and I am not ready for real.

The kids went back to school Wednesday. Marcus was ready — he's been practicing debate arguments over the break and is itching for competition. Jasmine was not ready — she cried Monday night about going back, which is unlike her, and when I pressed she said, "I just want to stay here with you." I held her and didn't ask why because I think I know. Children sense things. They feel the tremors before the earthquake. Jasmine has been clinging to me since Christmas, asking to help in the kitchen more, wanting to sleep in my bed. She knows something is shifting. She can't name it. Neither can I.

I went back to work and immediately had a full caseload. January is hard — the post-holiday crash, the cold, the bills from December piling up. Three of my students' families are facing eviction. One kid came to school hungry every day this week. I fed him from my desk drawer — granola bars, crackers, juice boxes I buy with my own money and keep stocked because the system doesn't move fast enough and children can't wait for paperwork. Sometimes being a school counselor means being a system. Sometimes it means being a granola bar.

Mama's next scan is in two weeks. We don't talk about it. We talk around it — how's the chemo going, are you eating, did you sleep — but we don't talk about the scan because the scan will tell us something and we're not ready to be told. Daddy drives her to every appointment and sits in the waiting room reading car magazines from 2014 because that's who Curtis Jackson is: a man who shows up and waits and reads about carburetors while the world decides whether to break him.

I made black-eyed peas on New Year's Day — tradition, Mama's recipe, for luck. Ham hocks, onion, garlic, slow simmered, served over rice with cornbread. Mama says you have to eat them before noon or the luck doesn't count. I ate mine at 11:47 AM. I need all the luck I can get this year. I saved some for Daddy and brought them to Cascade Heights. He ate them at the kitchen table while Mama slept in the next room, and he looked at me and said, "Good peas." I said, "Mama's recipe." He said, "I know." We ate in silence. Sometimes silence between a father and daughter is the most honest language there is.

Before I drove to Cascade Heights with the peas, before Daddy said “Good peas” and I said “Mama’s recipe” and we both knew everything we weren’t saying — there was this. A glass of Champagne Punch at my own kitchen table, poured at 11:30 AM with Marcus still arguing debate points in the hallway and Jasmine pressed against my side. I needed something that felt like a toast, even a quiet one, even one I was making mostly to myself. You raise a glass to a new year not because you believe it will be easier, but because you are still here to raise it — and some years, that is the whole prayer.

Champagne Punch

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: None | Total Time: 10 minutes (plus chilling) | Servings: 14–16

Ingredients

• 1 bottle (750ml) champagne or dry sparkling wine, well chilled
• 2 liters ginger ale, chilled
• 1 can (46 oz) pineapple juice, chilled
• 1 can (12 oz) frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
• 1 quart lime or raspberry sherbet
• 1 cup fresh raspberries or sliced strawberries, for garnish (optional)
• 1 ice ring or 2 cups ice cubes

Instructions

1. Chill everything first. Refrigerate the champagne, ginger ale, and pineapple juice for at least 4 hours or overnight. A cold punch bowl stays bright and bubbly longer.
2. Make an ice ring (optional but recommended). The night before, fill a Bundt pan or ring mold halfway with water and freeze solid. This keeps the punch cold without diluting it the way loose cubes do.
3. Combine the juice base. Pour the pineapple juice and thawed lemonade concentrate into a large punch bowl. Stir gently to combine.
4. Add the sherbet. Scoop the sherbet into the bowl in large spoonfuls. It will begin to melt and create a creamy, frothy layer — that’s exactly what you want.
5. Pour in the champagne and ginger ale. Add both slowly, pouring down the side of the bowl to preserve the bubbles. Stir just once or twice with a long spoon — you want fizz, not foam.
6. Add ice and garnish. Slide in the ice ring or add ice cubes. Scatter fresh raspberries or strawberry slices across the top. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 28mg