I do not like January

I do not like January. Looking back I do not think I ever have. There is all that build up to Christmas. And I do love Christmas. I love the tree and my house covered in garland and the smell of cinnamon in the air. Even the days just after are still full of family and food and leftover cheer. I even think New Years is bearable. But January 2nd it hits me. And I realize again that I do not like January. Aside from the Christmas let down I cannot say exactly why. There are plenty of lovely things that have happened in January. It is the month I was born and the month Brooks was born. But even with all that birthday bliss, I am still a little blue with each new year. If I had my way I would fast forward right through to March. Leave the winter blahs behind. Or just move to California and be done with it. Every year I tell Jeff, this is it, I am ready. Start looking for houses, I tell him. He smiles. I am serious, I say, I can't stand it any longer. I am starved for the sun. Not just sun, but warmth, feeling it on my bare arms. I am sick of down coats and boots and mittens covering every inch of me. Sun, sun!!! And so we pack up. We head to California. We go to Disneyland and the beach and I wear flip flops and smell the salty ocean air and feel sane again. And then the week is over and it seems ok to have to go home. That is the thought that is sustaining me. We will leave for sunny CA one week from today. We will do all the things we always do. I will eat salmon tacos and ride on Pirates of the Carribean and dig my toes in the sand and my children will play with their cousins and eat churros and run along the pier. I can barely stand the wait.