Transcript
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I'm maggie smith and this is the slow. Despite February being my birth month, it is easily my least favorite month of the year. The winter weather in the Midwest is brutal. By mid January, the twinkling lights and holiday cheer that make December bearable are gone. By February, I'm over it. The dirty icebergs on the side of the road shoved over by snowplows, the gray sky, the depressing lack of natural light. I'm over all of it. There's a reason so many Midwesterners struggle in the fall and winter months. Seasonal affective Disorder, known as sad, which might be too on the nose as an acronym, is a type of depression related to seasonal changes. With sad, you might feel more tired, more irritable, and less motivated than usual. You might notice yourself isolating, sleeping in more Whenever we go a few days without much sunlight in Ohio, I get out my SAD light, turn it on, and sit in front of its bright white glow for about a half hour. Maybe it should be called a happy light instead. Light therapy isn't a cure for the winter blues, but it does help. Maybe I should close my eyes and and listen to the sound of ocean waves. Next time, pretend I'm at the beach by February. What I really want for my birthday is spring. Give me sunshine and daffodils and leaves finally sprouting on the trees. Give me blue skies and birdsong. Spring fever in the Midwest is real because we've been waiting so long for the thaw. When it finally happens, you'll see college students wearing T shirts and shorts and people dining on restaurant patios again even though the temperature might only be in the 50s and 60s, 55 feels downright balmy after weeks or even months of single digit temperatures. Today's poem captures the essence of February, the color, the tone. But it also makes me think about my birth month in a new way, a more tender way. February by Jim Moore There are days called February. The word gray is given the keys to the city. Sometimes tenderness arrives out of nowhere, stays for a moment, and then is gone. Like a grown child who leaves home to make her way in the world, she goes away. She returns, then goes away again. You remain behind. She seems to understand you have no choice but to be who you are, understands what it means to be February. She knows how lucky she is to have left home, to have left you behind. You know how lucky you are to have known her, even if only during one brief visit or another. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram @downdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org.
