I've always loved starting new months. Even February isn't so bad for the first few days. It's rejuvenating to clear my whiteboard calendar and write in new stuff, delete all my texts, and pay the last of my bills. Flipping to a new pretty picture on my three calendars every month is another special treat.
But I have to wonder what is so celebratory about time passing, especially when I'm not counting down to a significant life event or trying to get through a rough patch. Is it the New Years-esque clean slate feeling? Is it the changing seasons? Is it the knowledge that I'm older and wiser than I was last month? Satisfaction that I'm one month closer to the high point of my life (whatever that is)?
I think it's a mixture of all of the above, in addition to one of modernity's mantras: I'm In a Hurry and Don't Know Why. We're all trying to get somewhere--passing time makes us feel like we're making progress. Unless, of course, you're stuck--then it just feels like time is passing you by.
I don't know if it's the cooler weather and changing leaves, the anticipation of a football/holiday weekend and a three-week break from school, Harry Potter warm fuzzies, or simply the eve of one of my favorite months of the year. Today I am content to celebrate time: the past, which I can look back on and grimace or smile; the present, where I can live fully in the moment; and the future, where I store my dreams.