January 

I am learning that new life 
Doesn’t change the past 
But it might just be able to heal it. 
Welcome to the world, little one
I hope you fall in love with this place.
I’m excited to watch you grow up
To watch the rest of us grow close
Alongside you. 

February 

I have some questions, like – 
What do you do when loneliness
Feels like the biggest thing in the room
Lately, I can’t tell the difference between 
People coming together 
And people moving apart. 
I answered the phone and realized
I didn’t know where to run 
So I wrote myself a reminder that
My life will not give out 
Underneath the pressure of loneliness and loss
It will just get heavy. 

March 

I spent several months searching
Only to realize I was exactly where I wanted to be. 
Right now my portable washing machine
Seems like the greatest thing ever. 

April 

And I love this feeling
When the air is cold but if you’re still 
And you lie in the sun for a while 
Everything gets so warm 
The kind of warm that feels like a deep hug 
From the sun itself. 

May

How gentle and fragile we all are
Our little secrets
Big laughs
The way we fall in love
And the way we mourn it. 

June 

Today, I imagine I am a soundboard
I will soak up all the noise
I will give you a safe space to spill your thoughts
I will catch them
Fold them neatly
And give them back to you
So they are easier to carry
This can be easier to carry.

July 

I could sit in a car with all of you for 5 hours, or more
He might grow tired of our hand gestures
The repeated songs
Our voices, only getting louder
We’ll sleep in backyards, campgrounds
Fall asleep to ocean sounds 
Log cabins, cottages
On hillsides and mountain edges
I’ll wake up earlier than the rest and soak it in
I want to hang on to this 
Turn on your music and drive some winding road
I’ll forget about carsickness
My hand out the window 
Counting trees that pass by 
I want to stay here a little longer 
The only thing we did wrong was we didn’t turn around. 

August

You look at it and see 
Geography. 
I can’t look it at and not believe
That there’s something deeper than that. 
To me, it’s design 
So intricate and detailed 
The very idea that this just sort of “happened” 
Over thousands of years 
Simply seems like a hollow explanation 
I don’t think the world was born with so many millions of tiny details 
Out of nowhere 
I don’t believe we were ever supposed to accept that idea 
Without some significant questioning. 

September 

The weekend made sense
Once we had all taken a personality test.
We sat around a kitchen table 
And laughed as we found ourselves
Summed up in brief words and sentences 
Our faults and our gifts 
Arranged between 1 and 9
If only they were always this easy
To digest.

October 

You wanted to know what I used as an off button
I fumbled for an answer because in the moment
I wasn’t sure
You were so damn distracting 
It was funny then
When the weekend itself became an off button
I got in your car and I stopped thinking 
About everything outside of it
I never knew two people who barely knew each other
Could feel so close. 

November 

November felt like 
All the decisions I had made over the past year
Started laughing at me.
I began choking 
On vulnerability. 
Anxiety told me
We could pick up where we left off 
And I did everything I could to shut it down
But we still fell into a few old patterns.
November felt like a shitty step backwards
I am trying to imagine that this is okay 
That this small step back only shows 
How far forward I had come. 
Because if this had happened 2 years ago
I wouldn’t have stepped backward
I would have fallen down. 

December 

I painted the year in gold
Called it the best one yet
And laughed at the irony of it
When I started looking back
I saw all of it’s cracks 
And began to feel ashamed
For feeling so confident 
I suppose this is just a reminder
That there will always be both
I should consider it a win
That right now 
I can focus on the best.