Thirty days hath September, April, June and November
All the rest have thirty one,
Except for February.
Which is weird.
It’s easy to pray against cancer for the first decade.
Or two.
But this February — the shortest month of the year,
the longest of my life — I lose the ability to pray.
On what, in any other month, would have been February 31st,
I buy a candle with a picture of the Virgen de Guadalupe,
patron saint of the country where my parents honeymooned.
Light it.