"Lots of people go mad in January. Not as many as in May, of course. Nor June. But January is your third most common month for madness." 

— Karen Joy Fowler

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January was full of life and death. It was walks on cloudy, dark days along the shore of the bay, and dinner out on Thursday nights. January was taking inventory of friendships, letting go of grudges and misconceptions, and the feeling of coming home. It was quiet moments with good books, lots of poetry and the sound of Pádraig Ó Tuamato voice holding me mesmerized each night as I went to bed. January was learning once again to pause when I feel overwhelmed, slowing down to notice just what it is I am feeling and taking note. January was full of Percy time, understanding the importance of play by allowing him to lead, knowing I am privileged to be along for the ride. It was Frosty the Snowman, made up games, looking for deer, noodles at every meal and so many stories. It was also the month of his 3rd birthday. January was making peace with my camera and this creative outlet that fascinates me so, and understanding that if a photo moves me I am doing it right. January was leaning into life head first, coming to the conclusion that there really is no other way to do it, and still feel alive.

January kicked my butt, and yet, I feel as if I have finally stepped into my life on solid ground.