I’ve come to discover, that there are no emotions in the weather.
The snow blowing in the wind is no more romantic than the leaves dropping to the ground. The heat of the summer is no less thrilling than the first signs of spring.
I’ve thought for years that seasons marked times in our lives because of the seasons themselves. However, I’ve begun to realize something else entirely.
Seasons mark times in our lives because we remember them by the way the snow clung to our hair and the summer sunlight filtered through their eyes.
Seasons are simple, they come and they go, until they come again. But I’ll never be the same person during another summer.
As this season passes, another chapter closes, and I wonder still what the next season shall bring.