one of twelve


I am ready for January to be done.

Not because it was a hard month, although in some ways it was.

Not because I am eager for what is to come in February, although I totally am.

Not because I don’t like this month’s page on my new wall calendar, although I don’t. (I love the artwork – it’s the colour/design of the day boxes I’m not wild about. February is better.)

Not because of New Year pressure to reform, perform, transform, although I am not immune to those messages.

Not because we’ve been buried in grey and gloom, although we’ve seen some of that. As I write this, the northern-latitude low-angle sun is streaming in our south facing windows, making long shadows of the wrought iron. I’m not complaining. I’m deeply grateful.

Not because I’ve spent most of this month looking out for and caring for others, although I have, and it was an honour to do so.

Or, if not because of these things, not only because of these things.

I’m ready for the new year to start – my new year. I’m ready to put my word of the year into action.

This week I clear the decks on my desk. I’ve already cleared my schedule to make more room for writing – some on my own, some with writing buddies.

This feels good. I’m ready.

Come on in, February. The kettle is on – we have stories to share and memories to make.


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