A New Box of Crayons

I am never filled with more hope than at the beginning of a new year. I sit with 2025 memories as I scan the horizon of 2026.

I pull out paper and pen, and begin my list. Things I want to do. To learn. To read. To cook. To finish.

A sense of familiarity overtakes me. I’ve seen this list before. 12 months ago to be exact. And possibly 12 months before that. Could it be I end and begin each year mostly the same?

It’s like the new box of crayons at the beginning of every elementary school year. They look exactly like the crayons from the year before, yet this is a different box of crayons. The same colors, same sharp points, same waxy smell. But these crayons are fresh off the shelf, whereas last year’s crayons are but a memory.

The curiosity and excitement of what I would draw and color with the new crayons parallels my curiosity and excitement at the beginning of the new year. Many items on my list are the same. Eat healthier. Exercise faithfully. Deep clean my entire house. But somehow everything feels new.

And then I have the more creative list. Finish crochet projects. Continue learning to draw portraits. Practice colored pencil art. Quilt. Create handmade cards. Read more. Write often. Try new recipes. Get back to playing the piano.

I easily forgive myself when I see my unfinished list of 2025, believing I will have more checkmarks at the end of 2026. But if not, you will still find me at the end of this year, pulling out my paper and pen, and beginning again.

I have traded in my beloved new box of crayons from my childhood for a pen and paper filled with hopes and colorful dreams at the beginning of each new year. And I’m not mad about it.