My life makes sense when you look at it in Leap Years. It’s more confusing to look at my life when you look at every year in between. It’s as if I’ve only ever hit the correct axis of time if you scrunched up the detailed map of my journey to get here—the day before the day that only exists every four years.
I attended two weddings in the past year, and I was the maid of honor at both of them. I planned two bachelorette parties—one that never happened and the other where I sustained head trauma and ended up in the ER.
The laws of physics governing the large clusters of cosmological matter beyond our blue skies were governing the cream that I had poured into my cup of coffee right before my eyes, and for a moment, I could see the gasses and dust swirling into a beautiful distant galaxy.