“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be grateful for it.” ~ Psalm 118:24
Everyone on Front Street knew Leo Pike
as the guy who hated January almost as much as he loathed cheerfulness. He
complained about the cold. He scoffed at resolutions. He muttered at neighbors
who dared to wish him “Happy New Year.” January, to him, was just a long sigh
between Christmas glitter and the first crocus of spring.
On the third Tuesday in January, one of those slate-colored days
where the sky seemed to have misplaced the sun, Leo trudged outside to collect
his mail, wrapped in an old wool coat that wreaked of pipe tobacco and stubborn
resolve. He grumbled as usual. The sidewalk was icy. The wind blew steadily.
Even the birds seemed to have given up.
Two young girls were putting the final touches on a snowman in
Mrs. Delaney’s yard. With his carrot nose tilted skyward, charcoal eyes
sparkling, and a grin bursting with delight, he seemed to glow with the
fearless joy of childhood itself.
Underneath it stood a little sign on a
popsicle stick: “Please smile at him. He’s doing his best.” Leo
snorted! Ridiculous he thought, while a small grin snuck onto his face before
he could stop it.
On his way back inside, he noticed children dragging sleds up the
hill, rosy-cheeked and laughing. Their joy wasn’t loud or flashy; it simply
existed, persistent as an ocean tide. One waved at him. He lifted two fingers
in return, then realized waving wasn’t really his thing.
The next day, he found a flyer taped
to his door - “January Warmth in a Bowl,” the village’s monthly soup
night. Normally he’d toss it away. He read it twice, then he muttered, “Ridiculous!”
and set his alarm anyway.
So he went. Leo sat at a long table among strangers. He tasted
potato soup far better than expected. He listened. He chuckled cautiously, like
laughter might crack if pressed too hard. Someone asked if he would come back.
He surprised himself by saying, “Maybe I will.”
By the last week of January, the weather was still. He still
believed the sky could try harder. But now, from his window, he noticed warm
lights glowing in nearby homes. He felt the rhythm of life around him. The
snowman stared back at him, leaning more, but still smiling as if hopeful.
Leo smiled back. January had not changed. He had. The month that
once felt endless now felt quietly blessed, alive with God’s presence, a
reminder that joy can be found even in grayest days. For the first time in
years, he felt lighter, freer, and grateful for the everyday miracles around
him.
