Our last time.

Countdowns.

Fireworks.

Endless advice on how to reinvent yourself by midnight.

As if life responds to pressure.

As if becoming whole can be rushed.

But tonight, we slow down.

Because the dawn is not rushed.

The sun has never forced its way into the sky.

It has never strained to arrive.

It simply rises, steady, patient, right on time.

That is how real beginning work.