By Youa Vang
Because of the long nights, winter is a time when many people become enamored with sadness, building it up over other feelings, and romancing it as if it was something to be courted and won over. And to that I say, hang on. There’s always hope – don’t lose sight of it.
The end of January is much like waking up in the middle of the night—when you point your toes in the dark, hold your breath, stretch, listen to the protest of your aging spine, and realize that you still have a long while to go before it’s time to wake up. In that space, introverts can hibernate and find comfort in not having to worry about meeting people.
I myself am not an introvert; I love surrounding myself with friends, but in the cold Minnesota winter when January gives way to February, and the lilacs in the spring seem like they will never arrive, I find peace in doing things to nurture the introvert hiding inside of me. Calvin and Hobbes, a plate of freshly baked cookies, or watching Pee Wee’s Big Adventure with my 2-year-old niece and seeing it through her eyes—all of these things are my version of bright copper kettles and brown paper packages tied up with string.
In my younger days, I used to feel like I had thousand of stories inside of me just waiting to be told in one form of another. In my many jobs, I am many things, but I have never tried poetry before, so I wrote a poem for my Reflections of Darkness post. I tried looking up rules for poetry, but one said there were no rules, so I went with that. Apologies in advance for its lack of elegance.
I do not hate February as much as I used to, Yet I believe I’ll always be wary of her and hold her at arm’s length.
She will break your heart. Never fully trust someone who wears winter boots with so much grace.
They are aware of the places they step, for there may be deadly ice
As well, they are very aware of the damage they can inflict.
I am always wary of her, for she always carries an icy knife in her