My mother used to say that February was a bitter, hateful month. Partly, I guess, because she didn’t like winter very much, but also, as I learned later, because she lost a loved one in February, and forever kept track of how many poor souls were unlucky enough to pass in this shortest of months.
As it turns out, I too lost someone incredibly dear to me one February years ago. But I don’t dread February or Valentine’s Day or winter. It took awhile, but I actually came to think of this month as a time to remember what we love – and that nothing or no one is lost forever as long as we can remember.
It occurs to me that even though Valentine’s was last week, I haven’t yet acknowledged it here. So I’d like to share some things I’m loving this cold, blustery day in February —
I love the way the sun is shining across my battered front porch, warming the boards beneath my feet, even though I’m buried deep into my corduroy jacket, reminding me that warmth will once again find its way into my every day world….and I laugh to think that in a handful of months I’ll be longing for cold.
I love the way the congregation of tall trees around me lift their bare slender limbs up to the sun-filled sky and dance in the wind, like hands lifted in praise and gratitude.
I love the way my four-legged companion with the perpetual puppy face follows me from room to room as I move about the day. His tiny paws pattering alongside, his warm body curled up nearby or pressed hard against me, a reminder that I’m never really alone, that someone is listening, and thinks I’ve hung the moon, even when my out loud ramblings don’t make all that much sense.
I love the way the light shines through the glass and iron vase on mywindowsill, bringing warm memories of the dear sister who knows me so well. I feel peace just looking at it, this vessel of elements; the swirls like water, the fronds like earth, glass and iron forged in fire, filled with life-giving air. It speaks to me.
I love the way the man I love loves me, how I catching him looking at me in quiet moments. How in sleep, he wraps himself around me when I come late to bed. How he takes the time to call and ask how my day is going. How he always seems to know when I need a hug…or a good laugh. I love no matter how far down this road of life and love we’ve travelled, he’s the only one I want by my side.
I love that I know what I want to do with my life; that I’m a writer. I love how words and phrases play in my head, how everything has a story. IS a story. I love that the written word touches me, that other’s words speak to me, have the power to fill me.
I love my life. And I even love February.
So, what are you loving this wintery February?