Written on 13 February 2019
His sister always called it “that day”.
It was always the same. The first day the weather was remotely nice he'd get a message saying something like “starting to feel like that day.” And on it would go, for another month or so, until finally, when the daffodils were fully up, the blossom was starting to come out and the heat felt a lot less temporary, he'd get the message. “It's that day.” And they would decide a time and place, and he would enjoy ‘that day’ with his sister. Usually a pub garden, but always together.
Things change, though. People change. He wasn't sure whether it was him or his sister, but something had changed. The furore with their Mum's Will hadn't helped. But mostly it was apparent they didn't need each other anymore. Both were married. They lived 100 miles apart. They were different people.
Still, in February, when that first hint of spring was in the air, he would check his phone incessantly. Hoping he’d get the message declaring the ‘That day’ season open. Looking for an excuse, perhaps, but mostly just wanting to celebrate the return of the sun.