Maybe it's because I'm pretty sure I'm an atheist. Or that my husband has been away every single Christmas for the last six years.
But more and more I feel like the New Year is my biggest holiday of the year.
There's a drive inside me to clean up and clear out the closets, the cabinets, and yes, the cubby holes in my mind (and heart) still carrying the crap from the year before.
I can't quite say how long they'll all stay so organized and empty, but the possibility that comes with January 1 brings me more hope than December 25 and Baby Jesus ever did.
My imaginative mind has always conjured up the wildest of fantasies because that's how I survived a fairly unhappy childhood. And as adult, the stories I create in my head, the endless possibilities of awesome and awful help me cope with anxiety that brews beneath the surface.
But every year I'm shocked and surprised, not just by the sad, scary events, in both my life and in the world, but also by the exciting new opportunities, the jaw-dropping "holy shit I can't believe this is happening" moments, none of which I, the great anxious visionary, could have ever seen coming.
And this is what makes me hopeful for 2013.
Because if good things are happening that even I haven't imagined, then that leaves lots of room for amazing things.
May this year be THE year. A fresh, new start.
Days full of wonder without any mistakes in them.
Well yet, anyway.