The end of the year was always a mystical time. You knew it was here. It was unlike any other time of the year. The days turned shorter. The night seemed darker. It was always grey. Heavier. Introspective, reflective yet festive.

My favorite part about the end of the year is how my grandma, and others of her time, used to deep clean the house in preparation for a new year.

By no means was the end of the year the only time deep cleaning took place, quite the contrary. The movements of end-of-year were different. The purpose and intensity marched to a different beat. This was the time for getting rid of the old to bring in the new. It was not to be played with. Everyone had something to gain by it.

It was the way to assure the blessings of a new year. It was blasphemous to have old dirt and trash in the house when a new year showed up. Surely, you were asking to have the same old luck and the same old crap, on a whole new ride. A new beginning, a fresh start, a new take, a new angle required new space. New, fresh clean space. The cleaning would be so deep old things were made like new.

Sweep the house, from the front to the back. Sweep the dirt out of the back door. Wash those steps off. Use those coffee grinds. Pay special attention to those corners. Bind those things that need to go. Remove them. No baseboards untouched. Use those eggs. Move the furniture. Sing. Wash windows. Pray. Be careful with those tin cans. Lay hands on it. Go set these onions around Uncle Earl’s room. Get that salt and sprinkle it around. Make a wash. Wash that door! Sweep everything to the center and then move it out. Special concoctions in spray bottles. Make a fire and burning of that dirt. Go on and burn some of those leaves outside too. Gather that wood, and whatever else was needed to complete the task.

Don’t just clean your house, clean yourself. Scrub all of the stubborn off. Clean the mean streak off. Wash off that selfishness. Don’t bring your ugly and your madness into the new year. Be like new. Pick a few of dem weeds and make a tonic. Go sit and be silent. Listen.

Back then, I had an attitude while sweeping the floors with a scarf on my head. Sucking my teeth because I wanted to be outside. Go to the show. Go to canal street. I’d dare not ask though. There was work to do.

I share this with all who come from similar schools of thought and ways of living. May we never forget to remember. May we continue to deep clean and make way for new.

Aminah Shabazz -

Writer. Mother. Lover. Daughter. Sister. Friend.