My daughter’s Advent book says that this month’s name is derived from the Latin word decem, meaning ten, because it was originally the tenth month of the year in the calendar of Romulus.
But I’ve got another theory. Could it also be because everything – everything! – in the month of December is dialed all the way up to a ten? The joy! The meltdowns. The grief. The love and the pain and the regret. The absolute delight! The resentment. The hope! It all feels pressing, impossible to escape, pregnant with purpose and wonder and memories of the many things we got right and the many things we didn’t, or perhaps never will.