Open Letter To The Month Of March

Listen here, buddy.

The view outside my office window on March 1, 2019. #nofilter

Dear March,

Who do you think you are?

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up.

On March 1, every single year because I’m a big idiot who never learns, I wake with joy on my mind and a song in my heart. February, that interminable and cruel month of frost and death, is over. March is here, and with it comes hope. Renewal. SPRING. I jump from my bed, sashay around the house, and throw open to curtains to find…

That picture up there.

So, March. I ask again.

Who do you think you are?

Three straight days of sun! Thanks, March!

This is my fault, really. I keep taking you back, hoping you’ll change. I’ve tried pleading, I’ve tried bribing, I’ve tried threatening. Nothing works, because I can’t make people change, March. You have to want that for yourself.

I’m sick of the gaslighting. I go most of the year without hearing from you, then you show up (positively convinced you’re some kind of savior, by the way) and it’s rainbows this and shamrocks that. You’re so convinced of this tale you tell yourself that you fail to see the despair you leave in your wake. You shove a bouquet of daffodils at me along with a card that says, “YOU’RE WELCOME.” My hero.

You have many people convinced, I’ll give you that. But this isn’t my first rodeo, March. I know how cold you are. I see through your facade and into your soul. And it’s bleak, March. It’s desolate. I don’t know why it took me this long to have this conversation with you, but I think even you can see where this is going.

This is over, March. I’m done. No more second chances, no more crossing my fingers and hoping you’ll change.

Remember the promise you always gave me? “Give it time. Things will get better.” Turns out you were right.

Her name is April. She’s flying in to see me soon, and what we have is special. She’s warm. She’s gentle. She is — get this — ACTUALLY WHO SHE SAYS SHE IS. What a concept.

Try not to be too upset about this. There are so many other people you can still fool. I know you’ll have fun toying with their hearts the way you toyed with mine.

Oh, before you go? Start my car for me. Gotta let it warm up for 20 minutes or so.

Because you’re the worst.