Can you hear that? The new year is calling our names.

He’s off in the distance, waiting for someone to answer. Like a child, he stumbles toward us as he takes his first steps. We don’t know whether to protect this young thing from itself or let him fall. Luckily, he will make his way into our arms. We will be required to carry him with us for a time. Often, his weight will feel cumbersome, hunching our backs as we shoulder him. In other more buoyant moments, this new year will lift us up higher than we’ve ever flown.

Our years, like our children, demand attention, sacrifice, and love. They cling to us. They run. They long for us, as we for them. They grow and change, infinitesimally, until we can barely recognize his face.

But the whispers from these calendar kids will mark our truest time. Make them count, or count them down.