What’s your favorite month of the year? Why?
May used to be my favourite month, the month where both my parents celebrated their birthdays just three days apart, a time wrapped in joy, tradition and the kind of warmth only family can give. But after their passing, May lost its glow, and in its quiet place, I found myself turning toward January instead the month I breathed my first breath, the month of my beginning, the one reminder that even after endings, there are still new starts.
Growing up, we did not have much. Life was simple, sometimes stretched thin, and there were moments where the world felt like it asked for more than we had to give. But January… January always felt different. It was the one month where love outweighed lack, where warmth filled the spaces that money never could.
My parents, especially my mother, had a way of turning that month into something soft and sacred. She made my birthday feel like a celebration of existence, not circumstance. There were no extravagant gifts, no grand parties, no lavish surprises, just intentional love stitched into small, meaningful gestures.
What I miss most are the letters she wrote me each year.
Every birthday came with a handwritten note, folded neatly, carrying words that felt like blessings for my future and reminders of who I was to her. Those letters were gifts no money could buy, pieces of her heart pressed into paper, inked with hope, pride, and a mother’s quiet wisdom. I did not realise then how priceless they were.. I just knew they made January feel like a month built especially for me.
Now, when I think of the months of the year, January stands out not because it started my life, but because it held the purest reflections of love in its simplest form. It taught me that joy does not require abundance, only sincerity. It taught me that even in a home without much, there can still be moments overflowing with meaning.
So yes, if I had to choose a month, it would always be January.
Not just for my birthday, but for the memory of a mother who made every year feel like a new beginning, and who left me with letters that still echo louder than any celebration ever could. January reminds me that love, when given wholeheartedly, turns ordinary days into something unforgettable.