I find I am growing restive during this never-ending November that is trying to fill in for the missing months of winter. Poor November, stuck here for weeks, with no relief in sight, no sign of December, January and February anywhere. Who knows where they’ve gone? The only thing November is sure of is that she can’t leave until some new month, any new month, shows up and lets her off the hook to take a much-needed break.
November is tired of being here. I’m tired of entertaining that same old month. November has been here so long, I should start charging rent. Months should only last 30 days or 31 at the outside. November is closing in on 100 days now with no sign of picking up her bags and leaving.
And it’s not poor November’s fault either. She was ready to go, she wanted to go after her allotted 30 days. It’s just that her co-months, her month-partners, never showed up. They’ve left her hanging, waiting at the bus stop for the entire winter. November is angry about that but can’t even chew out those unfeeling, unthinking months of December, January and February because she can’t find them anywhere.
Sometimes November worries that something really nasty has happened to her co-months. She just doesn’t know what that could be. Other times, she is so angry with those missing months that she almost can pass for December or February. November is ready to strangle them all. She suspects the fault lies with January, somehow. January has always been a tough month, with little regard for the other months. Sometimes January has a lot of influence on December and February, too much influence, November thinks.
At this point, November is hoping that March will arrive and relieve her suffering, but she doesn’t know how to contact March. March probably doesn’t even know that anything strange is going on. And so November waits, still here, still waiting for another month to show up and let her go on a long, and much-needed, vacation.