Lying on my back, stretched out on the bed, concentrating on the next move. I glanced at the computer clock as it states 11:58 p.m. I continue playing my game, trying to line up apples with apples and carrots with carrots; feeling no concern that 2015 was just a tick and a tock away.

Soon, I know 2015 sneaked in, because its like the the Gaza Strip outside. That’s Jamaica new year for you! Gun salutes and clappers ring in the new year. But, there is nothing new about it, except the 5 at the end of the date. It’s just another January 1st, another Thursday, another 12:00 a.m.; nothing new about it.

The guns bark loud as this is the one time – maybe not – when the semblance of a war can echo outside your window and the cops will do nothing about it. Its the new year! Its tradition! Its accepted by all. I listen to the different guns chirp in, as their voices are distinct.

I look to my ‘non-concrete’ ceiling and pray silently to God, that a stray bullet doesn’t find its way through the roof and into me. I rub my tummy protectively, thinking about the scar I now have from the surgery. Still listening to the choral of bullets in concert outside my window.

How can we cry out about crime in Jamaica when the first thing that happens in Jamaica every new year is not an act of love – a kiss – but the enactment of one the most vile and evil symbolism on this earth; pulling a trigger. Our controversial Jamaican death toll should not be so hard to fathom.

My mind switches to strategize like a murderer; now would be the prime time to exact revenge and what not. I shake my head, none too comfortable with how easily I can think like them. I also start thinking like a detective because I can make out how close some shots were fired and how far and which region had the most guns or the biggest guns. Not a comforting thing to know your neighbours are packing; especially in such a cantankerous neighbourhood.

This is the new year of our Lord 2015, I wonder if He will show up this year?