I spend hours each day doing nothing but thinking of things I should be doing. Because February is a time-thief and I forgot, yet again, to lock those oh-so-precious hours away somewhere safe. I forgot because February is also a memory-thief, and a whine-maker.
And my body refuses to do anything but semi-hibernate.
My mind burrows deeper into the cocoon of warmth, refusing to venture out unless there’s sun. Unfortunately, February and the sun are barely acquainted, even though I am forever inviting them to come for tea, sit at the table, get to know each other better. I even make cookies. But somehow wires always get crossed and they show up separately, alone, too late or too early, and me, my tea, and the table watch snow fall and birds struggle and ice form. And, of course, it’s all beautiful, because otherwise, how could we survive?
By now you can tell I have nothing to say, really. Words spin through my mind in a storm of tease, and mostly, I ignore them. I have things to do, or rather, things to think about doing. I cook and eat, sleep and read, work and build fires. I leave my house more often than I used to, because there are people I love to help care for. I do that at least. Care.
It’s Leap Year. I wonder how it is that we couldn’t somehow manage to add that extra day into June, or October? Still, an extra 24 hours is always something to celebrate. Also, it will be the last day of February, so there’s that.
Also, there’s politics. Everywhere I turn, there’s politics. I have so much to say that I just keep quiet. It’s a parade (charade?) I can’t look away from. Mother Nature seems so tame in comparison.
And look, the sun is shining. Through super-cold, frostbite-inducing, blue-as-ice air.
I’d better go enjoy it while I can.
Perhaps my face will freeze in a smile, or at least something that resembles one.
I wouldn’t want to frighten the lion.