In March, March…

Tomorrow, March begins. This means that today is the last day of February, the shortest month of the year. March has a bad reputation, surely because of that famous saying that goes, "March, March, takes the old woman to the edge of the fire, and the young woman if she can." As Josep Pla said, these sayings are only true if they don't rhyme. And this saying does rhyme. Therefore, according to Pla's theory, the saying is false. And it's obvious, because it also takes the old man and the young woman. We'll see what this March, which begins tomorrow, will do. We don't know if it will take more old women than old men or more young women than young men. February has passed, from storm to storm, each one bearing its name, as it goes. They have caused floods, gales, and accidents in general. A turbulent disruption of "the sublime monotony of one day after another," as Carles Riba wrote. Roads cut off, schools closed, flights canceled… In my town, Sant Feliu de Guíxols, they suspended the carnival parade because it was raining. But the locals couldn't resign themselves to not celebrating Carnival, so they moved it to the following Friday, without considering that the following Friday was the first Friday of Lent, and that street parties and Lent were two incompatible things. But now, who even knows what Lent is? On the other hand, everyone knows what Ramadan is. Perhaps because poor Lamine Yamal has to run fasting and exhausted on whatever grass he can find. Oh well! That said, the mimosas are now in full bloom, sprinkling perfume into the air of late February, offering the golden blossoms of their soft leaves to the eyes of those of us who, hopeful, are preparing to cross March, March, without too many complications.

If Lent has only recently begun, it means that Holy Week will be soon this year. And that means that those days of magical suspension that run from Palm Sunday to Easter Monday are approaching, and it means, for me, that I will hear the Passion Bach's music, according to Mateu, and that marvelous aria that comments on Peter's denial. I know I can listen to it any day, any time of the year, but heard on the night of Holy Thursday on Good Friday, it takes on an extraordinary emotional dimension, and its meaning makes perfect sense.

The very next day—not the other one, that is, the night of Holy Saturday on Easter Sunday—will be the Easter Vigil, in which Christians will celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. The Catholic Church will light the new fire, bless the baptismal water, and the Paschal Candle will reign, symbolically, in the darkness of any cathedral or parish. The deacon will sing the most enthusiastic and moving preface of the year, asking that the flocks of angels rejoice, that the ceremony itself be filled with joy, and that the trumpets never cease to sound. Indeed, a mortal returning from death to life deserves this unbridled joy with which the Catholic Church celebrates the resurrection of Christ, without which, as Saint Paul wrote, our faith is in vain. In fact, those of us who live on the other side of this small Mediterranean pond where Jesus was born, lived, died, and rose again should feel especially involved, since the natural surroundings at this time of year allow us to understand everything a little better, just a little. Can you imagine what it would be like if we were Brazilian? Or South African? How difficult it would be to understand that the soldiers in Caiaphas's house warmed themselves by the fire when Peter denied Jesus three times in a row… Did he see the fire? How hot, we would say!

Yes, all this will happen this March that begins tomorrow. But many more things will happen, of course. The war in Ukraine will continue; people will continue to die under the unpredictable dance of drones. More bombs will fall on Gaza, even though the fighting has been diplomatically halted. Mr. Trump will look at the reconstruction plans with his construction magnate son-in-law and dream of the palm trees, swimming pools, and hotels that will replace the ruins and the pain. New York will gradually recover after the great snowfall that has blanketed the streets and parks with mountains of snow. The Chinese New Year, the Year of the Fire Horse, may still be celebrated throughout March. And here in poor Catalonia, we'll continue getting around without trains, because it's been ages since the State has spent a penny on any kind of maintenance. The coastal towns will hastily repair all the damage from the construction, because summer is approaching and the hordes of tourists will begin to arrive, coming to soak up the sun and tan on any beach with sand from who knows where. March, March…