My Friends Change with the Seasons

I enjoy all of the seasons. I really do. They each bring something different to the party, which I appreciate. I picture the seasons, humanizing them, and imagine they are friends.

Winter is that friend who wears white year ‘round and totally pulls it off.  She just got back from New Zealand and is talking about an upcoming trip to New York. She drops names and seems to have an exponentially more exciting life than mine, yet there’s no envy. As much as I enjoy her when she’s around, I’m just as happy when she leaves.

Spring is an ingénue.  What she lacks in experience, she makes up for in ideas and dreams. I’ve the feeling she’s on the brink of something big. There’s more to come. She lights up a room and people seem happy to be around her.

Then Summer strolls in. She’s a fast fade artist. You don’t notice when she enters or exits, but while she’s there, you can’t miss her. She laughs too loud. She makes people mad with her opinions. She doesn’t clean up after herself. But just when you think “I need some space from Summer,” she announces she must go and you find yourself wishing she’d stay. You wake up the next morning with a sunburn and a headache and mumble, “I can’t play with Summer anymore.”

Oh, but Fall. Fall is my favorite. She’s lots of people’s favorite. She’s a chameleon. If you need a shoulder to cry on, she’s there. Need a dirty joke? Cover your ears. Want to go shoe shopping? She’s ready and she has a great coupon that’s about to expire. She always looks pulled together but not so over the top that you find yourself resenting her.

As I sit here having a cup of coffee with Summer, I find myself wondering when Fall will be back in town. I miss her.