A life in seasons

Each day gets lighter

Each January, I remember a particular dinner. It was fifteen years ago, New Year’s Day, and I was cranky.

My best friend, Meg, invited me to dinner at her parents’ house. I adore Meg’s parents. I was thrilled to be out of the city, cozy in their dining room, with dripping red wax candles and warm conversation.

After complaining about how I always get sad on New Year’s Day,¹ with all the holiday cheer over and only the grey expanse of January ahead, Meg’s dad shrugged. “Yeah, that’s true,” he said. “But also, now it’s January. Every day gets a little lighter from here on out.”

I think about this every winter. Each time the temptation to slumpily grump through January hits, I remember: it gets a little lighter from here. (Thank you, Alan!). His comment struck me because it was a completely foreign concept: you may be going through something right now. But it will change.

At that time, I was living in Baltimore. Of course, I knew the icy gloom would fade, but internalizing a seasonal cadence was not part of my nature.

Before Baltimore, I’d only lived in Southern California. In this climate, I was conditioned for consistency: February may be wetter and cooler than June, but the view out my window didn’t change.

Beyond the weather, I grew up in a family/a time/a generation that emphasized permanence. From the mundane (“we always get pizza on Fridays,”) to the definitive (“you’ve always been shy”), I was rooted in the belief that if this is how it is now, this is how it will always be.

Of course, a permanence mindset lacks all the flexibility and nuance necessary for motherhood. That’s a gentle way of saying: when I had kids, my brain exploded.

Over and over, my mind slammed into a wall of frustration.Whatever happened, I believed it would always be this way.

Both kids are sick, we’re wearing the same clothes three days in a row, and all I do is run up and down the stairs, wiping, feeding, holding? In my mind, I felt like: this is my life forever. I live on this staircase.

Or, the opposite may happen. A streak of good health, solid sleep, rare morning workouts and energy bursts. This is it, I would think, the drudgery is over. We’re on the up and up! Then, of course, the inevitable retreat. My mind could not compute: wait, we’re past this! It's supposed to be all fine now!

As always, I tiptoe into the New Year. I’m hyper aware that life can throw multiple, simultaneous curveballs at good intentions. I’m cautious about setting 2026 goals. Instead, I hope to approach the year with a seasonal mindset.

I want to live in the winter light and relish the verdant green hillsides on hikes. In the spring, I want to freeze my nose on the baseball field and not grumble about late-night dinners. I’ll remember that Little League is magic and the season of fast-food, chaotic evenings will not last forever. In the summer, I want to soak up the beach and pool time, when possible. I know that whatever fun we can squeeze out of a challenging season of working/camps/unstructured time will be special. When school starts and the holiday mad-dash begins, I want to be in it, knowing that the intensity doesn’t last forever.

My capacity and my children’s needs differ with each season. I hope I’ll be aware of these nuances, take comfort that seasons change, and remember: that’s ok. After all, we just keep inching closer to the light.

I loved my writing group’s encouragement to think of a word for the year. Melissa reflected on Walking in Wonder and Kim wrote about prepare.

Speaking of light, good grief with this winter light! A few favorite moments:

1. Wow, what a delightful guest. Invite me over!