I blinked and it’s February.
This time around during the last leap year I was nursing a broken heart.
(Not mine. Oh no. Nothing that dramatic.)
This time around the year after that I was telling a young boy to buy his girlfriend the biggest bouquet of pink roses that his wallet could afford him.
(A few days passed.
It’s over aunty, he said. No valentines for me. We’re over.
I smiled. Aaah. Young love.)
This time around two years ago I was on the verge of falling in love. It is a mistake that I will never make again.
And this time around last year someone from 25 years ago came back into my life. I’ve been having all these feelings for you all these time, he said. Well not those words exactly but you know what I mean.
He found me through this blog.
(I am not that hard to find, really.
And no, this post is not about him.)
For some reason, my February’s seem to revolve around the same thing.
This February I am in love again. He doesn’t know it. In fact, he doesn’t know me. Yet.
(Please. Please. Don’t go all “Oh, Ijah…” on me. It’s not what you think. Seriously. It’s all good. Trust me. )
I’m not scared of February.
I just wonder what this one will bring me.
(A latte and two blueberry cheese muffins delivered anonymously by someone concerned about my not eating properly.
A dozen cupcakes.
A Ken Jeong fridge magnet.
A lip balm in a pink tin that comes together with the Ken Jeong fridge magnet.
A trip to a distant land.
Another trip to an even distant-er land.
A keychain that looked like me.
A broken stem from a glass. Just like my heart, he said.
Here, you thought I was joking about the keychain, didn’t you? (Thanks, Job!)
I wasn’t joking about the rest either.
Well, welcome February 2012.
Bring all the ghosts you can.
Do your worst.
I’m ready for you.
(This post is dedicated to those who complained that a non-running post is long overdue.)