A January Conversation

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.

-Dr. Seuss

I sit.

Stare.

Sit and stare at the wall.

More specifically at the poster which now graces my wall, thanks to a little activity my Home Evening family did together at the beginning of this month. Of this new year. 2012. Wow.

A poster covered. Pictures. Words. Goals.

Can it really be almost be over? January? You seemed to linger with me, seemed to loath letting me go. Yet as I look back, there you stand on the horizon. Waving.

Goodbye.

A conversation I had earlier today comes to my mind. The dates seem to sneak up when we least expect them too. We both realized what today was. It was the 27th. The 27th. The 27th. It only gets worse with age, I'm told. The gradual acceleration. It must, I think. My childhood. How carefree and understated! No time restrictions, no deadlines, no punching in and out.

Slow.

Relished.

Bike adventures through unexplored neighborhoods. Twilight evenings that never seemed to end. Countless hours of imagination. Impregnable forts made of anything hands touched.

Though not always. Always that insistence in growing up. Responsibility. Impatience.

Okay...

The past. It's all in the past. Nothing can be changed. The future. There's so much in the future. Everything can be changed in the future.

What?

Now I stand here. Twenty-two. So much ahead of me. Can it be intimidating? Oh yes, you'd better believe I feel it! But let's start small, shall we?

Read, learn and apply the scriptures, modern and ancient, on a greater basis? I like it! Why not add, creating a greater personal relationship with my Heavenly Father in the process? Perfect!

Hmm.. on a roll here.. re-enrolling at Brigham Young University, the university you've wanted to graduate from since childhood would also pose as a great base for this year. Traveling. Eating right. Exercising. Living life a bit more to it's fullest.

Yes.

January, maybe I'm sad to see you go so quickly. Maybe I'm urging February on, that romantic idiot we love to hate. Singles I mean. Either way, you've taught me a few things. So as we stand staring back at each other, and I even catch a glimpse of my good friend 2011 behind you, regrets don't fill the air. A quote takes their place. An unknown voice whispering.

"It's all about making memories that last."

 And I turn.