February.

I count the days. 

They make no sense.

Mere weeks ago you were commenting on Facebook posts.

Texting or messaging.

And now.

Now I ask myself.

What is time?

How is it a new month without you here?

February.

My baby's birthday month.

We're supposed to talk about how you left me a message and I called you back from the hospital.

How you made Daddy stop playing the damned claw game and yelled, *Babe!*

Baby is coming.

You're supposed to tell me you've never seen anything like my reaction to being told to push. 

Baby is coming.

How you washed all the baby clothes in the closet (look at that, maybe you knew).

How you went shopping with their dad for their going home outfit.

And made me put a bunting on them in 54° for the ride home. 

I can still see the temperature on the clock in the car.

I can still hear you laughing every year as we remembered.

How you were there for every minute. 

February is here.

You are not.

What is time?

And how do I get through the minutes without you? 

Tweet