Dear January,

A year ago, I had just finished applying for schools. I had no idea where I'd be when you rolled around, but I sat down on my Saturdays and started dreaming.

January, you have been beyond imagining. You have brought be across the world and through weeks of adventure and trials and dreams slowly realized. You've been terrifying and terribly large, filled with things to do and places to see and the strangeness of the need to move-move-move and to dig-in-and-down set side by side. You've brought unexpected friends into my life, friends who I hope will continue to be a part of my world even after we've left New Zealand. But that, January, is up to me, I suppose, to make happen.

You've brought along your fair share of beauty: rolling hills, dramatic cliffs seen through bus windows, tiny starlights dotting dark caves, the art work of millions of years, and light splashed across the sky.

You weren't supposed to be filled with hair-raising thrills. But you were. Getting lost, getting locked in a stairwell, burnt food and fires, jumps backward in the dark, and more bumps and scrapes than my body has ever received. The last thing on my mind was action-adventure, but, January, I think you've changed my mind. Somehow, you've convinced me to take a deep breath and try somethings, new and scary. You brought me over and under waterfalls, up along old volcanoes, and forced me to start conversations with strangers. You've gotten me to close my eyes and step forward, trusting that everything will be okay.

And you've also taught me how to rely on myself. Reminded me how to trust my judgement. How to stick with my decisions.

January, you've been a lot of things. You've been huge and grand, and while you haven't slowed down, I've been able to soak you up. You've given me moments that I'll hold on to forever. Moments that I'll tell as stories for years until everyone I know is sick of them. Moments that will worm their way into all my stories. Moments that I'll think back to twenty years from now, like learning how to quickly dry cutlery, caning apricots, baking a legendary black current tart, phone calls that turn my eyes inward and across the ocean towards home, and the endless walks, washing dishes for a wedding.

But perhaps the most important thing you have given me and what I will always thank you for is the reminder you gave me. The reminder about why I want to study what I want to study. The reminder of why I want to pursue what I want to pursue. The reminder of why I want to surround myself with good, energetic, inspiring, intelligent people and work together with them towards something good. You've given me back the original reasons for having the interests I have. Reasons I'd forgotten, and inspirations I'd lost. You've made me confident that it is possible to do everything I want to do.

I can't thank you enough for that.

P