How are you? a friend asks.
I can feel my body looking for the nearest hole to crawl into, I reply. Maybe I’ll fly overseas and return come May.
I’m partly serious.
At Calendar’s turn from February to a new month, I sense, dread. March and April represent the anniversary of dad’s stroke and death, and a myriad of emotions that fall in-between, including late-fallen Easter. If I could just fast-forward this season, well, that would be super swell.