Warning: I’m about to launch into a rip-roaring, foot-stomping, titanic rage about the incredibly cold, somewhat snowy winter we’re having. So, if you don’t want to read the ravings and rantings, just skip the next couple of paragraphs.
I try not to gripe about the weather. I really do. It’s just that, in wintertime, nothing seems to go well. How can it, when the temperature has been stuck in the single digits, for days and days? I know others have it much worse than I do, and yet it’s so frustrating!
I keep dropping things because my hands are cold. I twisted my back when I slipped on the ice. My Chapstick is in constant use. My cat Tony narrowly escaped electrocution when he jumped on my lap the other day, because my clothing was infected with static cling.
And don’t get me started about the darkness: the very worst thing about January is how dark it is. I have to turn on the lights by 3:30 p.m. most days. And it’s dark when I get up. I feel like a mole, toiling through life underground, rarely catching a glimpse of the sun. Does this sound familiar?
Sassy, my beloved thirteen-year-old Kia Soul, reflects my mood: she balks and whines and complains about every snowflake, every drop in temperature. She can’t stand being covered in salt scum. She gets ticked off about constantly getting her tires inflated, in response to the blasted tire pressure light coming on.
I suppose it’s only natural for January to get a bad rap. November and December are absolutely aglow with celebrations. We shop till we drop — or until we develop carpal tunnel syndrome from ordering stuff on Amazon — whichever comes first.
We eat and drink with even more pleasure than usual, since some of the delicious morsels we love appear on our tables solely during those last two months of the year. And then, suddenly, the party’s over. January arrives, the world returns to normal, and the cold, icy days resume. Ugh!
But, guess what? I have a confession: In spite of all of the above, January may just be one of my favorite months. That’s right: I am coming out of the frigid, gray, sun-deprived closet, because I have found much I actually appreciate about the month of January.
Crazy, right? Let me explain.
First, immediately after the holidays, life seems to unfold in slow motion, compared to previous months. I savor the illusion that I have more time to experience each moment, each day; I like to believe that I can “hear myself think,” as my mother used to say. I rest on my laurels, just briefly.
Moments with my loved ones run through my mind and heart; I relive the expressions on their faces as we spent precious time together; I review all the silliness, joy, satisfaction, and even the moments of frustration and chagrin. I treasure it all, so much. My cup runneth over.
Also, January entices me to believe that the year ahead is full of possibility and promise: my goals, dreams and plans for 2024 are not yet tarnished by disappointment, cowardice, or reality checks. There are fewer appointments and get-togethers; the pace of life is, for a while, a bit slower, a bit more manageable. Like slowly sipping a fine wine, January is a time to rest, reflect and refill the well.
January is also when I ask myself: am I making an effort to reach out to people I don’t like, those I don’t agree with, those I don’t even know? It is not easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. I believe the future of our world depends on the big and small efforts each of us make to try to connect with one another. And so, in January I recommit to finding moments of kinship, points of agreement, ways to touch others with kindness. It is, at least, a beginning. And isn’t that what January is all about?
So, yes, in spite of it all, I actually (gulp!) love January. It is a merciful respite from the busy weeks just past, an irresistible springboard into more love, growth, peace and, above all, more gratitude.
Come in out of the cold, January dear. You are very welcome here.
Kathy Baker is a writer and speaker, a messenger of encouragement who loves to touch hearts and tickle souls with her work. She is the author of “Leaving Adversity Plaza,” and “A Tale of Three Choices: His, Hers, Mine.” She loves hearing from her readers and can be reached at [email protected].