The old words? They’ve grown weary, like shoes that walked too many miles. Let’s leave them at the door. They did their job—they spoke our secrets and shared our bread. But look! The calendar has just opened its eyes, and it’s still learning how to stammer.

To finish something is just a way of clearing the table for a fresh snack. We carry our past not as a heavy trunk, but as a small, polished stone in our pocket—a little weight to remind us we’ve been somewhere.

Don’t wait for a “fresh canvas.” Life isn’t a museum; it’s a sidewalk chalk drawing. Let’s paint this year with the colors of a kite caught in the wind: a bit of kindness here, a dash of stubborn joy there. Don’t run toward the future so fast that you trip over the present. The journey isn’t a map; it’s the way your feet feel on the grass.

The bells are ringing? Let them ring. They are just waking up the silence.

Happy New Year! (Or rather, Happy New You.) 🙏🏾

©️ Beatriz Esmer