Once Every Four Years
Once every four years, a single day slides into the calendar normally partitioned into 365 equal parts: an extra, a gift. A blank white square. 24 precious hours.
Today is a work day for me; my desk is cluttered with papers and pencils and a half-eaten bar of chocolate, but I'm secretly hoping that somewhere, someone is being wildly irresponsible and celebrating this day with some dizzy, spontaneous fun.
Saying yes.
Playing hooky.
Not checking email.
Splashing through puddles.
Giving a second kiss, and a third...
Eating an extra slice of pie. With ice cream on top.
Picking up the phone to hear the voice of a friend.
Booking a ticket for a vacation to someplace magical.
Happy February 29!
Here's to leaping.
I was supposed to be a Leap Day baby, but I came early. (And yes, that's quite possibly the last time that ever happened for me). I still think of 2/29 as my other birthday, though. :D
Posted by: Anita | February 29, 2008 at 12:38 PM
I love your prose--and your style!
Posted by: Tea | March 04, 2008 at 05:23 PM
Anita - what a great idea to have a second birthday every four years... especially one that doesn't "count" in years...
Tea - and I love yours!
Posted by: Jennifer Jeffrey | March 08, 2008 at 05:14 PM
We got married on 29th Feb and this year we renewed our vows and drank champagne.
Posted by: barbara | March 08, 2008 at 05:49 PM