I always anticipate the month of May. Spring approaches, and to me that's the sign of a new year and a new beginning. When the chives sprout, the forsythia turn yellow and my hyacinth pokes its head out of the ground. At least, I think it's a hyacinth. I did not inherit my mother's green thumb.
By May, the roses are blooming. They usually open their buds for Mothers Day weekend but this year they bloomed two weeks early.
Spring in recent years has started with hope and ended in disarray. Losing a job (twice in spring), fighting anemia, breaking my teeth, recovering from anxiety, and now the stress has threatened its resurgence with an incident at work that has been fighting old anxiety and knowing I got a 59 on the economics final about which I felt really confident.
But May also brings my highest hopes. I plan to have fun with my daughter, read those books on the pile, clean the house, bicycle, scrapbook...
Finish the manuscript that I discovered is ready for a new ending. Yup. After all these years I noticed that book one of Fashion and Fiends cries for a new ending.
Finish the travel piece I'd started regarding my journey to Tunisia.
Get a good start writing the initial stages of my honors thesis, which will look at the role of the Algerian independence movement in the creation of the French fifth republic and how that affects "anti-Muslim" laws and the rights of Algerians/French citizens of Algerian descent in France today.
So, May is my New Year. My clean slate. And it sounds like I'm making resolutions.