The shortest month

This New York Times article got me thinking about the ending of the shortest month of the year.

Here at S.R.S., February 2011 began with a short journey to Brooklyn for the purposes of fun, friendship and celebration.

It ends and March begins on another celebratory note -- once again in New York City, and then beyond -- as I close one chapter of my life and prepare for a new job and a new adventure.

The weeks in between, though, were far less carefree. For one thing, I said a bittersweet farewell to yet another friend from my immediate circle who is moving on to grander things many miles away.

Then there was slogging endlessly through all that snow and ice, and all the late hours spent awake and driving through the cold dark, pizza in tow, doing what was necessary to get by. Good riddance.

Other departures this month were less literal. Old ideals and long-held expectations -- had of myself and of others -- that had gone stale were sloughed off, sometimes unexpectedly, coarsely, painfully. Like popping a blister before it's ready, or ripping a bandage off a wound that's not quite finished healing; if there's no thought given to the timing, you could end up with a scar. 

So a little proverbial bleeding occurred, but it's all for the best, and now it's over.

What I'm getting at, I guess, is that I disagree with the NYT writer's proposal (however facetious) to extend the 28-day month by a couple days in order to bring it into equal standing with the other months. February, in my book, you are just not as good as the other months. And you couldn't have been over soon enough.

As for March, bring it.