A letter to December

Dear December.

I love you. I absolutely love you. But then, who doesn't? With Christmas trees, candy canes and egg nog spiced with rum, you're hard to beat. To top it all off, you come with the promise of a beautiful new year that comes in with a bang.

You are the month that everyone celebrates. The last month. Where we say goodbye to this year and welcome the next. The month where we hope the cold can coax down the snow so we can have our white Christmas.

You are the month we connect with loved ones and once again mourn those who have passed on. You are the month we eagerly set Christmas presents under the tree. You are the month we almost enjoy the bite in the air, the chill, because we know what's coming.

But this year, December, I want a little more.

I know, I know, it seems selfish, so selfish. You already give so much. I picture you like a mother in her kitchen after all the baking is done, the family is here, and supper is on the table, hearing yet another request from a child who hasn't learned their manners yet. And yet, I have to ask.

It seems like I've wasted so many Decembers. I've been waiting, waiting for the new year. Waiting for my January. I've saved my resolutions and my new beginnings. I've saved up all my moments in one year hoping I could cash them in the next. I can't count how many times I've waited. Because you weren't perfect, because the stars hadn't aligned, because I was scared.

Nothing really changed in January, though. I still failed in keeping some of my resolutions. I still couldn't find my perfect moments. I was still scared, and still, nothing was perfect.

I felt like the princess locked away in her tower, waiting for the perfect kiss to wake her and shake her and free her.

And it never happened.

So what could I do but cry and stomp and pray, wondering why god didn't love me enough to set me free? All I wanted was to be given that moment. To be seen. To be heard.

Because how could I take the first step on my own? How could I boldly step into the spotlight, facing all that rejection? How could I know when the time was right? How could I dare to make my own moment? No, I needed to be pushed, I needed it to line up perfectly. So I could know that all of this is ok.

I'm sorry for that now. For all those Decembers where I waited. Where I didn't take the jump, where I said it wasn't enough, where I held out for January.

I'm sorry for all of those wasted moments that I deemed imperfect, not quite good enough.

This year, I want to pour everything into my December. I want to start now. I don't want to wait with clenched hands wishing for my January. Hoping that it will be everything I need it to be, only to be let down once more by impossible expectations that have nothing to do with effort or work or time. No more waiting for the perfect moments that always pass me by, that are always less than I want them to be. This is my December. Beautiful and perfect.

I'm hoping. Hoping that this year will be different, what's left of it. And that's what I'm asking of you, December. Help me along, because I'm different now. Show me that I wasn't wrong in wanting more. I'm seeking now, seeking for more than I've ever dreamed of, better than I've ever dreamed of. Can you help me find it?

I know that I can't get everything right in a month, that's not what I mean. But I want you and I to walk hand in hand as far as you can take me into this new and beautiful life I'm living. This life that I've always passed by, but no longer.

I want to see the beauty of December, and I want you to show me.