June

Everyday is a fresh start but everyday in January is fresher. It's a month of potential and high hopes. My hopes often come crashing down. So this January, I resolve to have no resolve; nothing to do or try.

But June, June will do everything. She comes up and kisses me on the nose. Little pecks on each freckle to remind me of the summer sun I got as a child. June has all my resolutions. She will be healthier and try to eat out less. With that, she’ll cook more. I bet she'll buy more thyme and rosemary and use it generously. She’ll roast tomatoes, bell peppers and peas to mix in her meals.

June saves money better than I do. That's another reason to eat out less. June hoards her pennies and dimes, helping to pay off my debt. June is nice like that. She wants to ease my worries. She’ll draw a bath with roses and lavender just to push me in. June blows the little bubbles off her hand and onto my face. She giggles and says they rest on my check. I’ll try to wipe the soft soap from my face but June will stop me. She says it's cute. I should try to be more cute.

But I don’t have any resolutions. That's all for June.

She’ll dress me in my long yellow dress that I stole from her. The brightness lifts my mood and I smile a little easier. June smiles more than I do, but that’s okay, because it's infectious. She lifts my sunken spirits, pulling them with all her might. Soon, they’ll be swollen with laughter, twinkling and giddy laughter. Spinning and spinning, we’ll lay together and look at the stars. One of June’s goals is to be outside more. She’ll swat away mosquitoes and I’ll flick away the flys. The emptiness of the sky will be filled with tiny dots of burning light, bursting through the seams of the universe. June will whisper, as not to disturb them, “what do you think they mean?”

June plans to walk the dog more. It's a white and fluffy thing that won't stop yipping. June will drag me along with her saying she doesn’t want to go alone. So I’ll go with her. The breath of air is good for my lungs and I can't stop watching June. She walks with the confidence I could never have and sways her hips to the beat of an unsung song. June is like that, so full of poise and praise, it spills out of her and swallows me bit by bit, every day until her last dying sunshine consumes me fully.

June will call Mom more and she’ll try to chat with Dad. It’s not her job to force the relationship to work but she’ll try her best. After all, his dad just died and he is so lonely. June is like that. She reaches out to others more and calls them out of love not necessity. She tries and tries to be great. I believe June will be.

When June comes, I’ll be ready. I’ll take her all in. Every goal she has for me and every desire to make my life better, I’ll embrace. June comes but once a year and every time she sweeps me off my feet. June has all the hopes and dreams of January and the resolve to do them. She comes with her summer sun and little bugs, to kiss my freckled arms with aspirations I can never do in the dull light of January. God, I can’t wait for June.