It’s a leap year.

It takes the Earth 365.2422 days to travel around the sun. We get to go on that free ride. Adding an extra day in February during leap year mops up the extra time, synchronizes the seasons with the calendar and allows those leaplings born on Feb. 29, 2012, to celebrate a birthday. According to folklore, the weather always changes on a Friday during a year with 366 days. Leap day (Feb. 29) has historically been touted as a day when women propose marriage to men.

I thought of leap year when I should have been thinking of a sermon I’d be giving in church. I guess I’d hoped for a connection. Perhaps I thought of leap year to keep from thinking of other things.

I ran into an old friend recently. He was moving far away, going to where it’s warm all year and the birds are both colorful and numerous. His binoculars would be worked hard.

That was the good news. The bad news was that he was dying.

“I don’t think I’ll see you again, even on a clear day,” he laughed.

He is a good guy. Winston Churchill said of someone, “He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.”

I admire my friend. His virtues far surpass his vices. He didn’t just follow his passion, he brought it with him.

I laughed, too, but uncomfortably. We shook hands while doing the man-hug thing. A handshake and an awkward one-armed hug. We’ve never had a lesson. Usually men do this as if they were hugging a porcupine, but this one evolved into a genuine hug. It made my throat hurt. Goodbye is hard when you know that you won’t say hello again. We’ll stay in touch. Email and calls.

I’m blessed by knowing people who make it difficult for me to say goodbye.

I’ve learned that I should never part without kind words. I never know if we’ll meet again.

Life changes quickly. That’s why we feel nostalgic for things like last week.

When it came time for each of us to hit the road, I searched for something that would be perfect to say. What I came up with was, “Goodbye.” And then, “Thank you.”

Meister Eckhart said, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”

We say goodbye in many ways. So long. See you. See you around. See you around if you don’t turn square. See you soon, baboon. Adios. Ta-ta for now. Have a nice day. Out the door, dinosaur. Farewell. Ciao. See you later, alligator. After while, crocodile. Take care. Better shake, rattlesnake. Gotta go. Stay sweet, parakeet. I’m out of here. Toodles. Hit the road, toad. Stay sweet. Take care, polar bear. Hasta la vista, baby. Until the next time. Don’t forget to be awesome. Give a hug, ladybug. I’ve got to bounce. Cheerio. Keep your head down. Keep your wheels on the road. Peace out. Toodle-oo. Keep your shiny side up. Live long and prosper. Bye, bye. Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry? I’ll get my coat. Bye now.

“Keep moving. There is nothing more to see here.”

That’s how the police say goodbye to everyone attending my family reunion, which has become a regular episode of “Cops.”

My mother had an interesting way of saying goodbye to guests. She’d say, “Let me fix you a sandwich for the road. That way, if you have car trouble, you won’t starve.”

No matter how you say it, it all comes down to “goodbye.”

“Goodbye” comes from the term “Godbwye,” a contraction of the phrase “God be with ye.” The first documented use of the “Godbwye” appeared in a letter that English writer and scholar Gabriel Harvey wrote in 1573. He wrote, “To requite your gallonde of godbwyes, I regive you a pottle of howdyes.”

Shakespeare used “God be wy you.”

Influenced by terms like “good day” and “good evening,” the phrase transitioned from “God be with ye” to “god-b’wye” to “good-b’wy” to “goodbye.”

The origin of the word “goodbye” is a blessing.

Goodbyes can be hard. Don’t write “goodbye” on a rock and hit a loved one in the head with it just so she’d know how much it hurts when she leaves.

Lao Tzu wrote, “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.”

Leap year gives me that one extra day to hope and pray for miracles.

 

Al Batt’s columns appear in the Tribune every Wednesday and Sunday.