Dear Lover
Someone put it in words recently.
So perfectly.
That January is a practice round of sorts, for the rest of the year.
A time for disasters at work.
And failures at life.
A block of days to get it all over and done with.
To test those unspoken resolutions.
Feel their weight and loftiness and practicality.
To allow yourself time to work out the kinks.
To forgive yourself.
And give yourself a little more deserving credit.
To remind yourself to slow down while everyone else is with the wind and running.
To swallow fears and know that these little resolutions.
The ones that weigh so heavily.
And offer so much anticipation.
That they're meant to be incorporated.
Not shouted out suddenly.
Between gagging spoonfuls of black-eyed peas.
And cracks and whistles of fireworks.
Love,
Me.
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