The letters series: dear January.

Hello there!

It’s SO good to see you again, it’s been ages! I hate that you only come around once every year because whenever we meet it seems like you bring lots of really good vibes with you.

I think it’s safe to say that you’re a fan of the grand entrance, hmm? I mean, the way you love to announce your arrival with so much fuss that the whole world stops to pay attention. Fireworks and parties, too much booze. Yep, January, you are my kind of gal.

I love the way you are a source of inspiration to almost everyone, even before you arrive we’re all thinking how we are going to offer you our very best versions of ourselves. Personally I’ve never been any good at the resolutions that are synonymous with your name, but there have been a few very secret wishes I didn’t even utter aloud, that I kept just between you and me, that you helped me out with.

Like the time I very despondently joined Weight Watchers on January 4th 2006, ashamed with myself that it was my third time round that particular merry-go-round. I promised you that it would be the last time and it was. Some of your inspiration actually rubbed off on me, so thank you.

Then there was the 31st of December 1994, as we counted down the minutes until your big arrival on Sydney harbour, and as I thought about what I wanted for the new year you would usher in I decided that I might like to be pregnant again by the next Christmas. I did say might and I was vaguely thinking barely preggers by Christmas and I did only have a three month old at the time but boy did you jump on that one. I was holding another tiny baby by the time we met again, which I’ve always said was the very best surprise of my whole life.

In our part of the world you bring with you sunshine and lots of long lazy days spent enjoying precious time off. Days and days where we are free to lie on a beach or read books or watch movies or just sit around eating and drinking with lots of our favourite people. And that’s all YOU January, you make all of that possible.

What I love best about you is the sense of hope and promise that you bring. Everything is bright and new, and anything seems possible. New diaries and calendars are blank slates, daring us to dream. So many times we really need to hit refresh on a long year, sometimes a really draining year, and you give us the feeling that we can really do that, that with you around, we can turn the page and begin anew, write our own damn story.

My hopes for the year that you bring with you are few and simple. Health and happiness for my kids is always at the top, trite and predictable maybe but still at the core of what makes me happy too. {See also: good health for husband and me and drama-free relationships both friend-and family-wise.} Safe travels. Good music. Surprising and exciting new discoveries. Maybe a bit of your magic inspiration to help me be a better vegan and less just a hardcore vegetarian {it’s ALWAYS the fucking cheese}.

I imagine it’s a lot to be bombarded with. You’re such a good sport the way we make you responsible for all the things we want to do and achieve for the remaining eleven months that come after you. I’m not sure why April or July or November can’t seem to help people stop smoking or overeating, nor why March or August don’t seem as able as you are to motivate us to actually use that gym membership. But hey, at least you get a nice break between all the demands. {I bet you’re lying on a tropical island the other eleven months of the year, aren’t you? I sure hope you are.}

So. Welcome back dearest January.

And thank you for being so fucking awesome.

Raising my margarita at you,

Ana.

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