So,
January,
what can I say?
You were purple hair,
fading over the weeks.
Beginning at midnight with love, and
dancing under the stars.
Sisters, and
wine, and
cigarettes the commas between laughter and tears.
January.
You were my sweet family,
wild flowers, and
wild hair dancing in the breeze.
You were sun, and
flies, and
perfect views topped only by the perfect moments with my favourite human.
You were the sting of cool rivers, and
daisy chains in a Rosie car,
dirt and
dust and
sweat in a swag.
January, you were family, so much family.
Sunshine, and
poolside, and
barbies, and
hugs and kisses, and
bees.
Fucking bees!
January, you were less work than I’ve ever done, and
so much living.
You were middle of the night adventures, and
sitting on stoops, and
new friends, and
old friends, and
wine stained kisses.
You were escapes to the beach, and
reading books that spoke to the hardened places in my soul that are also some how the softest.
You were brunches, and
hands grazing, and
coffee, and
op shops, and
writing poetry in candlelight.
January.
You were peeling red skin, and
seeing my best friend’s smile.
You were hurt, and
realisation, and
dreaming, and
walking.
So much walking.
January,
you were the love of my life looking into my eyes
telling me it was like he could see me for the first time in weeks.
For me it felt like the first time years.
January,
you were the end of a project over a year in the making,
one that engulfed my whole heart and
bled parts of it dry.
You were renewal,
January.
You were the white painting of walls,
a symbolic act not seen since studying This Boy’s Life.
You were the reminder of the beginning.
The hustle, the bustle.
And you were a message that maybe that isn’t the way to do it on round two.
You were the soul rest, January,
for the next part of the journey.
I have a feeling it’s going to be big.