fall+winter.

It’s strange how we can be afraid of things.
Crazy dumb thing.
I mean, irrational things.
Like seasons.
Yes, seasons.
See, I had started to dread the winter.
I mean, really dread it.
To the point where I’d feel claustrophobic whenever I’d think of it.
Like I needed to get away.
But Florida isn’t an option.
I like visiting Florida, but for some reason–maybe because it’s so flat and native Floridians have no accent that I can think of, anyway–I never want to live there.
It’s kind of like how I feel about Jersey in that respect, I guess.
I mean, I knew I couldn’t simply get away from winter–flee to warmer locations.
I knew I had to face winter.
But see, the past two winters have been painful times for me.
The first one, I think I died.
The second one, I didn’t die, but I hurt.
And then this past summer felt a little the way I imagine Narnia felt when Aslan finally came back.
First Father Christmas showed up–and though it was still cold–gosh, there were gifts and jolliness and all around merry-making to be done.
And then the snow melted; the White Witch lost her footing, and the flowers started blooming.
I started to really see those flowers this past summer.
Yep, the same ones.
They grow wherever joy and rebirth take place, I think.
They grew in Narnia; and they grow here, too.
At least I finally saw them this past summer, I mean.
But then I got scared that the winter would kill the flowers and I’d hurt again, just like I’d been hurting these past winters.
And I kept telling myself to relax, it’s still only June.
Still only July.
Still August, so I’m good.
But now it’s right smack in the middle of September.
And it’s okay.
And I am not so scared anymore.
I’m thinking that Father Christmas will show up this winter.
I’m thinking gifts will abound.
And also, I’m thinking that fall is happening now.
And there are flowers that bloom in the fall.
And the trees get set on fire, their leaves a burning skyscape; wild oranges and reds and yellows that take my breath away.
Which is better than holding my breath, waiting for winter’s customary quick kick to the gut.
So, I won’t do that, I guess.
Not anymore, anyway.