A New Year Wish

Slide2  January dissolves to grey. The kind of grey that seeps through the windows long after I’ve started my day. Clouds hang low spilling rain and melting frost from the branches, ice from the pond. Pretend it hasn’t started like this before, these dreaded days after the holidays when I realize the shortness of the days,  the depth of night.   We’ve taken down the colored lights; presents are put away, the parties over, the people gone.  The cold that enthralled gives way to this dampness.  I long already for the cold and clear,  for frost and sunlight, for  campfires and a pale moon, and children running off into darkened trees as if it were summer.  I long for summer.

Here now, alone at last, I yell at the dog. The cat with her strange sulking ways is bothersome.    I hear rain beat against the roof and gurgle down the drain spout in an otherwise quiet house.  What I’ve shoved aside, is there in the stillness, all the doubts and misgivings piled up and waiting.

I have many doubts and misgivings, the same ones over and over. The ones I’ve resolved to dispel  year after year.    My resolution, if you can call it that,  is always the same.  A desire to extend more and grasp less, to ignore the petty doings of the everyday.    To be rid of jealousy.  To accept shortcomings.   To offer compassion, empathy even.  To be, in spite of all things, kind.  I want to know what to offer or ask, what is needed and when. I desire  imagination.

Outside the rain falls. The red of the dead ferns stand out, the cedars and Doug firs become ever more green.  I don’t know what I’m trying to say.  I am an imperfect creature, imperfect as all creatures are,  bound to these days of living even after we’ve tired, after we’ve too often grieved those gone.    Here I am, in  a quiet house,  with a  sulking cat, a sleeping dog –  longing  for things past.

Resolution offers promise. Hope.  Desire an aspiration, a wish,  a way  through these dull days.   I desire hope that  my imperfect self  will greet another spring, hope that I will evolve in some small way.    I desire  a new year full of  bonfires and friends – to be surrounded by unique children full of ordinary needs. I wish  for darkened trees and growing gardens, for flawed family and friendly travels.  I wish for consideration and questions.     I wish for  resolve.    I wish for a good year.  I wish for all of us to survive and flourish, to grow and return,   to stand once again beneath a pale moon and wish each other well.

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11 Comments Add yours

  1. Wonderfully written. I feel the same way, but you’ve said it with much more eloquence than I even could.

    1. Thanks! I’ve always wanted to skip the weeks after the holidays and wake up in late Feb. or something

  2. Amy McKendry says:

    Boy, does this hit home. Are you sure you aren’t reading my mind? But your words reveal things so beautifully.

    1. Thank you! I think January is a good to time to leave town – to somewhere hot maybe ……………

  3. LaVagabonde says:

    It’s always a shock to strip away the pretty lights and baubles. The gloom descends with a vengeance and contemplation happens whether we want it to or not.

    1. It is a shock and the gloom does come. The lights and festivities help’s one ease into winter and the long nights but January always seems like the party bus suddenly stops and you get pushed out the door and left to deal with whatever is out there

  4. Imagination. You’ve got that one down.

    I like the deep nights and bitter cold of January. Makes the first warm days of spring what they are.

    About a week of January would be just right, then lets move on already.

    1. thanks! and yes too bad we can’t just blot out most of January

  5. Aunt Beulah says:

    This post is so hauntingly, beautifully written. It aches with honesty. I don’t know that I’ll ever forget it. The last paragraph pairs such interesting contrasts: ordinary children with unique needs, darkened trees and growing gardens, flawed family and friendly travels. Wonderful writing; simply wonderful. I feel blessed every time I check your blog and find a new post. I’m grateful for the gift you have.

    1. thank you ! I’m very glad you found my blog too. I really appreciate all your thoughtful and encourgaing comments.

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