February sneaks up on me, and yet doesn’t. I see February coming. I expect the turmoil that will come now. I brace for it. Plan for it. Hoping to minimize its effect. And then I turn around and I’m in it.
I feel guilty for writing in these few moments I’ve found. There are kind, wonderful, heartfelt comments on my last post that I still haven’t responded to. I think of what I want to say back to y’all when I’m driving, the only part of the day lately when I can be alone with my thoughts. And then, when I can be in front of a computer, the words escape me and work pressure crashes in, blocking all else.
But I’m really feeling February tonight. And I need to write. So I hope you understand.
Many years ago I was married. I’ve never revealed that here. But I was. It ended… in February.
My grandfather, my hero, he died suddenly in a tragic accident… in February.
I met, loved and lost Ian, the reason I began blogging… in February.
I had a long drive home in the dark tonight. And, for reasons I choose not to share here, I cried for most of it.
I’m fine. Just… a jumble of feelings. All these Februaries. They add up.