dear may

My girlfriend thinks that you are a victim of global warming which has caused a shift in the seasons making you more like April than your usual self. She might be right and your recent strangeness is not your fault. I can understand that there are things beyond your control, that you react to your environment but you also have a hand in creating that environment. You are not merely a helpless cog in the seasonal machine, May. Have you become a ghost of your former self? You are wreaking havoc all over the country. Of course, you might be driving these forces yourself and not a victim at all.

I would like to think, however, that you have evolved into a month of kindness and warmth. After all, you house Mother's Day and Memorial Day, the beginning of summer. But I know better. You can be incredibly temperamental as I remember from my childhood in Alabama. You are the prequel to hurricane season for the Gulf Coast and never tire of reminding us that you can conjure powerful storms. And though I love a good southern thunderstorm, the flooding I could do without.

May, you have been quite unexpected and confusing. I'm not sure what to make of you, so far. But I suppose I have never felt secure in our relationship. Unable to fix you, I'm never sure whether to love you or not. I am afraid, May, that you are too changeable and your capacity for returning my affections too shallow. Then I wake up to your sun and breezes, a perfect day of tulips and green and I find myself loving you in spite of myself. You are a contradiction, May and I've never been able to resist the mysterious. It would be wonderful if you could talk to June and arrange for a pleasant few days, at least for my brother's upcoming nuptials. I realize you'll probably have to negotiate with the state of Alabama, which is never as simple as it seems. Good Luck with the whole identity crisis hot/cold, summer/fall issues. Believe me, I understand what you're going through.

Love, Devon