Dear November, There's something sacred about turning the page. A quiet ache that comes with realizing how much has already gone. The moments that faded before you could hold them. The people you still reach for in your dreams. The versions of yourself that had to disappear so you could keep going. Now, as the year begins to fade, may these last two months be softer; less about fighting, more about flowing. Less about holding on, more about trusting what's meant to stay. Let the new find you with gentleness. You've done enough surviving. It's time to begin again; quietly, bravely, and with hope. Love, The version of you still believing in better days