The Cradle of the New Year

Strong lungs gave loud cries that opened my sky and started tears I couldn’t control; this joy’s never-before-ness soaked my cheeks. I wanted to see the new person my husband was holding but had to wait for him to bring her over since a Caesarean had left me flat on my back.

Why are beginnings often so little? A baby. A seed. A second.

My daughter. An oak tree. A new year.

I used to fill the ends of Decembers with resolutions. . . . [see more]

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