December, you’ve always been a problem child.
I love well beyond the majority of Sara Bareilles’s songs, but December perfectly describes this time for me. I realize the last month of the year is all about holidays and baking, family and friends, but no matter how we dress it up December is a myth.
In the final hours of a year, we tend to run around in frantic search of the things that eluded us the other three-hundred and thirty-four days. Buy those boots, land that date for drinks after work, fix the leaky sink or the stuck door before guest arrived. Shine life up to tidy before it too late.
Too late for what?
The calendar has flipped approximately twenty-seven times in my adult life so far and a new day, a new year follows. It makes no sense to cram things into one or two months. If the door or the date wasn’t crucial in March, it is not important now.
Sappy songs and twinkling lights can be joyous, but they can also be a reminder of the things we forgot to do or didn’t need in the months and years before we plugged in the tree for one more round.
I like to think of life as a circle. One we all eventually hop off of, I get that, but one without end. I run around like a nut every December too, lest you think I have some magic answer or insight, and then right around this time, I experience the drop.
The soft or sometimes hard landing of knowing that come January 1st I am still me. I still have dusty baseboards, a dog that pulls on his lease and a possessed toilet in the guest bathroom. In 2018, I will continue to doubt myself, my choices. I will worry, covet food and curse exercise.
Some things will never change, some will, but I guarantee none of it will get solved in December. Ever.
The wheel will turn, I will step over the wrapping paper on my way to whatever excitement or challenges lie ahead in April or September.
Bears are in hibernation during this time. They don’t shop or worry. They cuddle in, love what they have, and put away what can’t be fixed. They rest.
Be like a bear. I’m writing that on my new calendar.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Goodnight.