I love a good first of the month. A new page in the calendar, a fresh start, a row of untouched weeks yet to be filled with the chaos of what is, days yet to be weighted down with stories, smudged with leftovers and put to bed exhausted by the run arounds of life.
I remember as a kid my Mom would get each of us a calendar for Christmas. It was always one of my favorite things to find under the tree - what would be our theme for this year? Fairies, Modern Art, Meditations, Heroines? It was as if the choice of calendar dictated the flavor of the year to come. My Mom was our fortune teller and somehow always got it right. You could just feel the amount of time she stood standing in front of the calendar section contemplating which daughter needed what for the New Year.
Me, being the semi hoarder, controlling, perfectionist, would only write on these calendars if it was the most important of events and even then I would take the time to make sure I wrote with clarity and elegance. I would also go on to save these calendars for years to come because you know, I may some day use the photos for a collage or frame them and hang them on my wall because well, you know, they were just too beautiful and important to throw away.
Anyone get me?
Today, I still find that same joy when I get to turn the page of a calendar. As a Mama I have swapped the arty photo calendars for Staples plain and ready. These calendars need to hold all my things. These calendars become my visual compass for the month. I still write with clarity and elegance and cringe when I make an error. The grace of my penmanship somehow becomes my lighthouse for the weeks ahead. The neater my words, the stronger my steps as I journey onwards through soccer games, art classes, dentist appointments and birthdays.
I still get excited when it's time to change the month. I am no longer greeted by an exciting picture that fits the tenor of that particular time of year but what I do receive is a precious moment of pause. When I turn the page of a calendar, for one solid moment, I get to sit in the nothingness, the endless potential of whats to come. The untouched days and unwritten stories. I get to bask in the blank boxes of tomorrow. It's pretty grand.