I’m a Leaper

I am a Leaper.

A person who, thanks to some mathematical errors tied to the cosmic interactions of Earth and Sun and bad math on the part of some old timers long ago is lost in time, born on a day that simply doesn’t exist three out of four years.

Now I want to be clear, I’m not whining. And to you this may sound like something simple, after all you’ve had a birthday your whole life. You have it every year. It is a part of the marking of time for you, like any other annual holiday – except of course this one is numbered, in fact it’s the only chronological holiday in your life, and is almost always celebrated in some form. It is an expectation that is programmed in when you are too young to know any better. And you live by it, like it or not, “acting your age” and “aging” are referential to the concept that you are rolling through a set of 365s over and over, with some sort of ethereal counter ticking over one click with each set of candles you extinguish, and each time it does you get closer to the end of the count. Same with a Leaper, but we get to trade the downside of being confused when it comes to birthdays with the upside of being able to use the confusion to keep the whole counter thing fuzzy…

Your birthday happens each year, on exactly the same day. It is a solid thing, a dependable thing, a measure of your life broken down into 365 subunits. For a Leaper it is a bit different. For us the basic assumption is shattered from the beginning. Yes some parents pick an arbitrary day each year, let’s say the first —> Read More

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