Rage Against The Dying of The Light

I get depressed.

Can anyone give me a shout out?

I know y’all do. Cause really, why would we have blogs if not to yell our frustrations to the huge speechless void that is the internet?

I take vitamin D but let’s face it, not much works when the only light around you is the glare reflecting off the snow that has been around for weeks and shows no sign of melting any time soon. It’s easy to get down when your legs, hands and face feel like they’ve been whipped every time you leave the house. It’s easy to feel blue when you’re so pale that drivers in opposing traffic have to put their vizors down when you approach. It’s not difficult to start sulking when you realize you haven’t shaved your legs in a month just because it’s the warmer alternative.

I never really thought that parenting would teach me anything.  Honestly.  I know that sounds ridiculous but it’s true.  I could say the canned answer and insist that I knew it would teach me a lot about life but that’s simply not true. I thought, if anything, it would make me stupid – come on, I find myself singing “Old MacDonald” and talking like Bill Cosby.

But each day Clare wakes me up at a better hour than I would on my own. Each day she insists that we look out the window and admire the view. Each day she makes me sing and dance and laugh and eat food (though this is usually a response to her crying).

When I named Clare I didn’t think about what naming a child “light” or “bright” would mean.  I find that she craves the light. I find that when I sit her down in full streaming sunlight she is happy and content just being.

She has no idea how much light her life has brought to my own.

I no longer care that the sun goes down at 4:30 if I can wake up to the her sunny smile beaming up at me each morning from her crib. I don’t care that I keep getting wet snow in my shoes if I am holding her in my arms. I no longer find it necessary for green to be sprinkled on trees in order for me to be happy.

There is this wonderful Dylan Thomas poem called “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”. It’s beautiful. Anyway, there is a refrain in it that says “Rage, rage against the dying of the light”.

Today as I play with my daughter in the light with the cold winter swirling around us, threatening to take away our joy, I find myself repeating that refrain. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light” – a call for us to live and live fully, wildly and well.

So let us remember, in this deep dark month of February, to do as Clare has taught me and to rage against the dying of the light.

In other parts of my world: I thought about doing a blog series on my weird irrational fears because…well…you would have laughed a lot but then I thought I was opening myself up for a whole slew of pranks…I think I’d like to keep my kryptonite secret for now.

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4 responses

  1. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this post. It is so true how kids do that for us! A few years ago I taught quarter on poetry and I remember being SO inspired by this poem and talking about it with my students. We all have our own ways of raging against the dying of the light. Do you want to come to your moms for dinner tonight? We are making duck.

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