A letter to the new year
photo credit: V. Patel Dear 2023, I did not eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. They're mushy and gross. I've always thought that, the many years I previously choked them down in the name of tradition and luck. The truth is, I've reached a point in my life where I'd rather be granted time over luck. I need more time. I need more time to snuggle my baby girls who are growing up at breakneck speed. I want to soak up all the moments, joyous and/or not, because they are my last babies. I'm holding on tight to those little hands and feet, burying my face in their baby soft hair, constantly kissing their big, fat cheeks and hugging them as hard as one can safely hug an infant, hoping all of it will magically make them stay small and innocent just a little longer. I want so many things for them in their life. I want strangers to stop asking if they're twins when we're out and they're dressed exactly the same...and look exactly the same. I need more time...