It never fails, every year just as we are changing calendars I think about all the other things that have evolved over the last 365 days, and in some respects the year-end always feels similar to its beginning: as if I’m still the same person and a new year is just another constructed milestone. But there is clearly more to it than that.

For instance, I wonder what it must be like to be a kid contemplating the same. Because of their stage of life, to them changes are much more rapid than for an adult — a keenly apparent point when looking at pictures of us from the last year.

Yet, despite the sensation of uniformity, I’m aware of substantial changes within; the longer I’m alive, the more accepting I am of who I’ve become and happier for it. I only wonder if the wisdom gained truly offsets another year spent approaching the end, and whether I can improve at adequately describing my reality.