exactly four weeks

It's February. My favorite month. Always has been. That's a wee bit funny, because my favorite season is fall, but that is what it is. That's me. So many wonderful things packed into such a short month! Actually, I think the fact that it's short is part of the appeal for me. Of course, the month starts with my birthday, and sometimes ends with an extra day (a bonus!), so the in between should be super, right? When I was a kid, we always had a week off in February -- time for me to enjoy all the books I'd gotten for Christmas and my birthday, or to go sledding in the 'forest' next door, or simply wander in the snow making trails when I'd gotten a little older and felt the need.

My dad died in February, and his funeral was on Valentine's Day, so for a time I thought that February would never be the same. At some point, I realized I still liked February, despite that pain and sorrow that still hits me (often when I least expect it) not only this month, but throughout the year. I kept it to myself. Who would understand? Who would believe me? What would happen if I shared? I realize now that if I share, I will be true to myself -- thereby honoring Dad.

So there you have it -- I love February!

Dad's birthday was in February, too, and a lot of really neat people I've met have birthdays that begin with 2. A couple of my very best friends (who also happen to be related to me) were married in February. Our first baby was due in February. There's Candlemas Day, and the Feast of St. Blaise. And there is snow while the days get progressively longer. That's what hit me this morning: the sunlight lasts noticeably longer in February. And that's when I realized I could share.

I love February. I love that Dad's birthday was in February, and that this year it's Ash Wednesday. I love that I can see the sunlight on the snow in the evening. I love that it's been snowing! I love that usually by the last day of February our forsythia bush is covered in buds, and occasionally the first crocus pops up unexpectedly. I love that February is short and sweet, and that the dates are exactly the same as March, except in Leap Year. I love that when I think about February, I remember the good stuff more than the bad, and that I know before long we will be complaining about something other than cold. The end of the school year suddenly seems possible, close, and the prospect of lazy summer evenings on the porch or by the fire is close to real.

I love this sweet little month. Even when it hurts.