in the new year, people don't die. or, at least, when they do, we are certain we will see them again at some point. there is a sense of certainty in the new year.
we all go for a jog in the mornings of the new year, the air is cold in our noses, and when we get home we eat carrots pulled from the earth by our own hands. this isn't such a big deal to us. we just set our alarm twenty minutes earlier now, that's all. we planted a garden. still, we like that we do these things.
we aren't necessarily any happier in the new year, but that's because we know that's not the point. we live the way we think is right; we help each other build furniture and we make pasta for one another, and before bed at night we stretch and we try to get the words right in our journals. this is enough for us. in the new year, we don't have to convince ourselves that what we're given is enough.
we are, maybe, still a little lonely in the new year. when someone we love gets something out of the fridge or looks around for a missing earring, we still look at the side of their passing face and realize we don't know them very well. this still happens, and we don't know how to feel. it is still hard for us to talk about some things, and to talk about anything sometimes, in the new year. but that's alright. in the new year, we know everything is going to be okay.