Dear last year.

It's safe to say you chewed me up and spit me out. You teased me with goodness and yanked the rug from beneath my feet. The innocence I entered into you with was fiercely taken from me by year's end.

A precious safety and security floated about and I with it. Our routine continued. And then it didn't.

You brought change: a move, our wonderful home, new opportunities. The gift of waking up to my children every 365 days. You brought with you blessings I can't quite seem to list, because in April you began to take my mother.

But, it was an amazing summer. A wonderful blur of gardening and picnics. Of ice cream parties and swimming.

And just as the leaves began to turn, she began to go.

My world was rocked. I lived in constant fear and anxiety. I was a caretaker of the one that cared for me.

When you took her, you took him too, in a different way. 2013, you thrust me into a world where I am parentless. And life will never look the same again.

So as you came to a close, I struggled. Did I want you to go? You most awful year. Or did I want you to stay, because the idea of moving past what you brought me is a very most confusing thought.

In the end, as the sun said goodbye, I decided I had to let you go. Not only did I have no choice but you needed to go. Time to put one foot in front of the other and navigate this new world.

And so, I will.

So long, last year. I'm glad to be done with you.