The calendar says today is January 4, which means Christmas is over and we’re into a new year. This much we know to be true.

And yet: There are technically a few more days of Christmas left. And by technically, I mean if you follow the church calendar, Christmas keeps on keeping on until Epiphany (January 6). Which is why some people keep their decorations up until then.

Ha! Not me.

Sure, I follow the church calendar too, but when it comes to the trees and lights and garland and elves (whether on shelves or not), it’s high time they all went back to their storage bins and hibernated for about 11 months.

Not that I’m anti-Christmas or anti-holiday or anti-anything. My official policy is that the holidays are delightful. Enchanting. Blessed. And let’s be honest, a season of good cheer and good will to all is a pretty darn good thing, especially in this day and age – and this is only one reason why I celebrate it.

In fact, I’ve mentioned before how I love the magical tranquility of the days before Christmas.

But here’s the thing. It’s a season. Which is to say that it has its moment in the sun, after which it is meant to fade into the background, at least for a while, to be replaced by the next season.

And that next season is known as: Okay, everybody, up and moving, time to get organized. Or, as some call it: the new year.

For me – the consummate organizer – that season can’t come too soon. Almost as soon as the gifts are unwrapped, I’m ready to move on and get the house back in order. That table has been over in that corner making room for the tree for far too long. That garland wrapped around the banister is becoming an eyesore. The candelabras in the picture window are getting on my last nerve.

I need my house back, y’all. My surroundings require a place for everything and everything in its place.

The new year is here. I have a colossal project list, along with a daily planner that, if all holds true, indicates I will have to schedule my headaches. So be it. I’m ready for a substantial to-do list and the work it will take to get it done. I need checklists is what I’m saying.

As we move away from the meandering of the holidays and pick up the pace toward efficiency and productivity, I have a strong urge to enter the new year unfettered by the ghosts of months past.

My breakup letter to the past year notwithstanding, I’m done with excoriating 2020, as if continuing to rake it over the coals would mitigate one millisecond of the angst it caused.

To everything there is a season, so the scriptures tell us. Maybe the time for beating up 2020 is over. You’re forgiven, 2020. Go in peace.

Let bygones be bygones, I say. Let’s start fresh, with no past recriminations, no grudges held, no burdens of regrets and misgivings to carry around.

There’s a year to take hold of and make the most of.

Let’s get on with it.

Dear 2020:

I’ve been thinking about our relationship a lot lately, looking back at all the hopes we once shared, all we’ve been through. It’s quite a bit to mull over: lots of emotions … regrets … tears … hand sanitizer. And in the end I came to a decision.

There really isn’t any easy way to say this, 2020, so I’ll just state it as clearly as I can.

After consulting a few online therapist websites, Dr. Cloud’s “Necessary Endings” book, and a couple of friends over a glass or three of wine, I realized it’s time to make a change.

You and I need to go our separate ways.

Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t all bad. There were happy times, especially in the beginning.

I started the year with high hopes and firm plans for a productive 12 months.

I even made jokes about your name – all in good fun, nothing hurtful, of course – like how we could see our futures so clearly (playing on the “20/20” theme) and the old saw about hindsight and how history would point to this year as a moment of clarity.

It’s weird, but now it seems like more of a joke that I ever thought that way about you.

I know that sounds a bit cold, but let’s be honest, I’m not the only one who’s been cold in this relationship. Clearly your mind has been elsewhere this year. Maybe we should just accept that things have changed and both of us move on. Or if it helps, we can say it’s not you, it’s me.

Wait a minute. I take that back. It is you. All you.

I’m not trying to be cruel, but some things need to be said. And you need to hear them.

I mean, what happened? We met, we were having fun, and then your whole personality changed. Like someone flipped a switch. There we were, moving merrily along in the first few weeks, and then – wham! out of nowhere – you shut me down.

You were so controlling. I hate that. And at the same time, I had to deal with your wildly erratic mood swings. You’d set arbitrary rules over how you thought I should live my life, and then you’d change them the next day. How selfish and inconsiderate! And you never discussed any of that with me beforehand. Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want restrictions like that in my life?

Sometimes it was frightening wondering what the next day would bring. You made me fear for my life, my financial security, and even my toilet paper stock. Seriously, 2020, what kind of relationship is that?

And then you got really dysfunctional. You tried to drive a wedge between me and my family, especially during the holidays. You kept me from gathering with my friends. You barred me from restaurants. You forbid me to go to church. I could hardly go out in public, and when I did, I had to shield my face.

So yeah, I’m over this. I think it’s best to part ways before things get toxic.

And yes, before you ask, I am seeing someone new. It’s serious enough that we’re making plans and dreaming big dreams – far more than you and I did in the last few months. 2021 holds more promise, more hope, and – bonus! – 21 is drinking age. Who wouldn’t be happy with someone who can stop by the wine store on the way home?

By the way, we’re not on a break. This is a breakup. I’ve already returned all your CDs. Please don’t call me again.

Good luck.
Shelia