I used to wish I lived in the northern hemisphere becuase in New Zealand, December is hot. It's been hot long enough that we are beginning to wilt. The once lush hills behind the house are golden, my sisters skin is golden, my hair is golden.
I wish I felt golden, but Decmeber makes me go quiet. I'm busy thinking about how I promised, promised!, that I was going to slow down and recognise the small moments this year, and how in the rush of assessments and people and writing and waiting waiting waiting for life to begin I forgot.
December does that, because January is next and all I can think about is how this will be my year, all the things I am going to do, how I'm going to suck everything I can from life, all the colors, all the energy.
When I think about Decemebr, I don't think about Christmas. I'm to old now, I think, for Christmas to be such a big deal. When we got out the Christmas tree this morning, I felt the dread in my stomach. I've been getting that for a few years now, because I never feel like I meet expections when it comes to Christmas.