Summer In Winter, Make Room For Spring

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"No winter last forever;
no spring skips its turn."
- Hal Borland
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How winter had come and gone, leaving its snowy time of thoughts behind. No more was there an excuse to stay holed up inside the house, pondering the last summer, spring, and fall with contempt, instead the sun shining brightly and inviting all out of their boring households. Though it had not yet come, the lingering smell of salty ocean promised groggy wake ups from humid mornings that always came in the late spring. For now though, only the rainfalls melted the nighty frost off of the leaves sprouting on tree branches and filled the basins of bird baths that sat in estate gardens, polished by servants who finally felt awake for the first time in months.

Thoughts that had been at the forefront of someone's mind were finally given the chance to find a spot on the shelf as street vendors offered out parasols dressed in pinks and blues, and hot cocoa was replaced with lemonades and cold juice straight from the body of a Qadir-made ice boxes. The days were somehow quicker than winter ones had been, despite the fact that the sun had slowly taken her descent further and further into the day, brightening the world for longer increments with each passage of time. Butterflies fluttered on the wind into the Crown City, along with the peskier line of insects which were soon swatted at daily by the back of a hand or a lady's fan.

At night though, in this early spring, the cold breeze returned like a remember whisper, begging one to recall the last months. And with that whisper, came memories of before the snow had melted and before there was a reason to ponder the world outside one's own mind. The summer of last year sighing again in memory, resting her chin in her hand as she waited to be acknowledged. The memories of fond affection and midsummer dances, and late night conversations on sand with ocean spanning out as far as the eye could see. Summer went onwards, retelling how it felt so nice to have the attention of someone whose focus was only you for all her months until her dusk came and it ended rather abruptly, making one wish for more.

With each retelling, sometimes the affections were increased- more than one really knew they had been as there had only truly been conversations and a hand in hand, although in memory in felt like so much more; which only made the heartache as much as it had when the cold came, before the rebirth and spring.

After so many stories of the same event, one that left the soul hurting that the end of the tale would never come and an indefinite August would last so that the sun could never set on the happiness of that month, the questioning began.

"Why don't you just go away, Summer, whatever could you be offering to me by making my heart feel so heavy?" One would ask, dragging their hand through curls to tuck behind an ear. Although, Summer offered no obvious answer, listlessly continuing her stories from the start of June all over again. Listening would lead one to think some more and for the following remaining cold days, the feelings would continue as they had throughout all of winter, but then the first night of true spring would arrive, warm outside- so much so that while families ate, many left the windows open to let in a comforting breeze. On this first night, after goodnights had been said, one retreated into their room to meet their memories and Summertime friend again.

The door was slowly opened, hesitantly peering in to see if the usual guest was sitting at the desk, brushing back waves of sand colored hair that brought back the ocean of those nights. Instead though, on this first warm night, the room was empty to any sadness and repetitive whispers. A faint breeze carried in through the window that had been left open by a servant after they had made up the bedroom. One would glance around rather puzzled, looking under the bed and into the wardrobe, even over the windowsill in search of that lost guest who had been visiting since the beginning of the chill, but to no success in discovering any of those cold summer memories.

Confounded, one would slowly crawl into bed, pulling blankets around to keep warm as the faint blow of wind continued in through the left open window. Slowly drifting off to sleep for a finally peaceful, thoughtless night, one would faintly catch a glimpse of something new awaiting to speak. Spring calmly sat in wait, wishing nothing more than to express the days to come, although first a dreamless sleep was needed to clear the mind of all the sadness of repetitive winter thoughts. Spring awaited for the cool memories to fade through the night, leaving room for new memories to finally form.

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