The “New” New Year

Written By : Hannah Corbett

When I was eight years old, nothing confused me more than calendars. How could September—fresh backpacks, sharpened pencils, and the smell of new crayons—not be the start of a new year? I was entering a new grade, I was a year older due to my summer birthday, and I had already made my resolutions: neater handwriting, getting good grades, maybe even getting a lead in dance. Then, just as I got comfortable, the world expected me to do it again in January? Resolutions in September and in January? That felt like two New Years too many.

But now, at twenty-six, I’ve realized something: little me might have been onto something. September is the new New Year. Think about it. The seasons are shifting, sweaters are waiting patiently in the back of the closet, and every store suddenly smells like cinnamon. September is the perfect reset button.

Take today: September 1st. A Monday, which feels cosmically perfect. If that isn’t fate handing us a clean slate, I don’t know what is. So I decided to treat it like a holiday. A new planner. A new pen that makes my handwriting look slightly more put-together than I actually am. And, in an uncharacteristic show of discipline, a 9 AM workout class.

At 8 AM, I stared at my alarm and considered snoozing. But then I thought, isn’t that exactly how you ruin a fresh start, by sleeping through it? So I rolled out of bed, made my coffee, and dragged myself to class. The sun was out, the air was a crispy 62 degrees (even in South Carolina), and somewhere between the warmup and the last sip of my coffee. I felt it: the thrill of beginnings. The exact same feeling I used to feel zipping up my brand-new backpack on the first day of school.

So maybe January has the fireworks and the champagne. But September has the cool mornings, the blank notebooks, and the promise of something new. Which makes me wonder: when it comes to starting over, is September 1st the real New Year’s Day?