when i wrote down last year that i unraveled multiple times i think a part of me believed that there was nothing else that could fall apart you can imagine my surprise when i unwound entirely this year the past three hundred and sixty five days have managed to be both so painful and incredible watching the sun go down behind the ridge while the wind rustled not getting out of bed for so long that my body ached from lying around so lifeless eating tiny turkey sandwiches beside alpine lakes while salty sweat dried on my cheeks crying until my lungs ached so bad from feeling so isolated laying on the picnic blanket in the park doubled over in laughter while a lady bug landed on their hand writing what i thought would be my last journal entry while the heat of august sucked the life out of everything around me sitting on our couch watching the snow flurry around in the light from the street lamp while i write this note in the midst of the whirlwind that this year has been, i somehow managed to find my way back home, back to myself the lights were off, cobwebs collected in the corners, a chill in the air from a place not being lived in, not being loved but it was still home, it was still me i’ll spend this new year opening the windows, opening up to others shaking the dust off the linens, shaking my fear of change gathering daisies in a mason jar on the table, gathering the things that bring me joy i will tie the pieces of me back together with sun bleached, frayed, knotted yarn it won’t be perfect, but at least we will be whole