Leap years freak me out, yo’. Mostly because I’m lazy and don’t care to read through the Wikipedia entry that explains why we get a gift certificate for an extra 24 hours, renewable every four years. So my laziness leaves me to wonder in gape-mouthed and frightened awe at the sky: “Why do we have this extra 24 hours, renewable every four years?!?!”
Also totally crazy? Gray hairs. But thankfully, I have a slightly greater understanding of where these come from and why. I found my first gray hair a few weeks ago, while attempting to de-glue my mane following a particularly wild crafting session. Did I freak out? Call my ex-boyfriend? Harvest my eggs? No. I kept on yanking my comb. That glue was tough.
Today, we’re told, is a special kind of day, since seeing the number 02-29 on our phone’s calendar will only happen this one time for the next 1,460 days. But if you’re anything like me, you probably didn’t change much about how you spent it. Maybe your roomie or bf made you special pancakes this morning, or maybe you saw some cute kid getting the 411 on 2/29 during your morning commute. My leap day was spent like every other weekday is spent. Even though it’s considered a “special” day, an “extra” time we’re gifted, we keep to our routines. Partly because we have to (laundry has to get done!), and partly because it’s just what animals – really, what all living things – do. Sorry, inanimate objects! We’re boring!
What I’m getting at (or trying), is that a day is only momentous if we want it to be. If we believe it is. It doesn’t matter how many reminders pop up in our inboxes, to “Act Now” on a sale or a trip, available for 24 hours only. We act when we want to act. Sometimes it’s now. Sometimes it’s not.
So while Leap Year has its own charming qualities about it (and I saw the movie, so I’m completely familiar with them), I’m a lot more sold to the idea that every day, ever hour, is gifted time. Things could very easily turn out in a way where I won’t even see the next leap year (though not for any reason to do with my newfound gray hair). Today is an extra day. As is tomorrow. And the next. And the next. It doesn’t mean we have to go out and do something big every day. Seizing time is not always the dramatic show we see in movies like Leap Year. We act now. We act later. We live our lives. We’re aware that all time is extra. And when we find it, we comb our hair, grays and all.