it will be hard to let go / of what i said to myself / about myself
It took about 18 months, a cannot-be-taken for granted confluence of events, and a fairy godmother, but I finally, successfully took two consecutive days off (and yeah, that includes weekends). And then I managed five more.
In a word: bliss.
I have (long had) complicated feelings about Decembers. It is a month I associate with friends who died young and who I am always grieving; with guilt about never being “home for Christmas” and bemusement over where and what home even is; with deadlines self-imposed and external; with stories unfinished; with books unread; tasks undone. It is not, in short, a month I ever particularly enjoy.
But I am always grateful to have made it through what is heralded by Old Year’s Night, and for the optimism of New Year’s Day.
Here’s to beginnings, to endings, to transitions. To Janus and to Januaries.
And to rest.
Attribution:
i am running into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twenty-six and thirty-six
even thirty-six but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me— i am running into a new year by lucille clifton