For a season, we wrapped ourselves in scarves, sweaters, stockings, and thick trousers. We lived for the warmth of our beds and the sting of hot coffee or tea on cold mornings.
Rushing through the streets like lightning bolts, we were too frozen to bother with small talk or eye contact. Because in winter, the cold is the enemy.
We packed away cute dresses, nice shorts, and lovely blouses. Our favourite outfits stood no chance against grey skies, deep snow, piercing wind, and below-zero temperatures.
Yet our Christmas was magical, the fields all white, covered with snow. For a moment, we forgot about the crazy rains, wind, and cold, and we were all smiling, snapping pictures, shaping snowballs, building a snowman, and living the holiday movie.
But soon, the soft snow hardened. It turned to ice. We slipped, once, maybe twice, and nearly cracked our heads on the pavement. And just like that, the joy froze too. We wondered when the snow would all melt away and save us the trouble.
The days dragged on. Daylight vanished before we left for work and disappeared before we got to our warm homes. Everything felt dull. Boring.
We wanted to explore, to live, but all we could manage was a museum visit, a movie night, something indoors, always indoors.
That was winter.
But now we have hope of joyful days ahead. April has come, my birthday month by the way, and with it, the light. The sun peeks through. The air is softening. Flowers are blooming. Suddenly, there’s colour again.
The skies are blue, the plants are glowing green, and we’re finally walking out the door with less to carry. No more heavy coats and boots.
The streets are now filled with life. Kids are laughing in backyards. People are running, biking, and walking. There’s energy again. The sun is reminding us what it means to feel alive.
And then now comes the pressure. Where can we go? What do we do? We can’t stay inside anymore. We’ve been cooped up for too long.
Spring won’t last forever; this is our window. Our time to move, see, laugh, live. So we have to travel. As much as we can. As far as we can. Because we know what it’s like to wait for warmth.
Spring is just the beginning. It’s a mix of sunshine and sudden rain, one moment we’re soaked, the next we’re glowing in the sun. But it is a fresh start. A soft welcome. Because, very soon, it will be summer.
Then we shall chant: Oh, summer, how to be tossed into a frying pan! The heat will be intense, but our spirits will be light. The days will be long and golden, and we shall wear our favourite outfits again.
We will eat lunch on balconies, have picnics in green parks, swim in rivers and lakes, lie on the warm banks, and let the sun kiss our skin.
We will enjoy barbecues one weekend after the other, outdoor movie nights, music festivals, food festivals, and street fairs. Life will feel full, loud, and colourful.
Then, quietly, softly, the flowers will begin to fade. Autumn will step in.
The trees will change their clothes, swapping green for gold, red, and deep orange. The air will cool down, and the world will look like a painting.
Even though the temperatures dip, we will still enjoy the outdoors: cozy sweaters, warm drinks, and crunchy leaves beneath our feet.
We will slow down as we breathe, reflect, and prepare psychologically for winter. We will start to put away light clothes and bring back the heavy ones.
And then, winter will come.
It’s wild, isn’t it? These seasons we live through. Each one with its highs and lows. Winter feels like rock bottom. We’re cold, tired, pushed to our limit.
So we adapt, searching for warmth in hobbies, routines, and quiet moments. We push ourselves to grow, to find pieces of who we are, maybe even rediscover parts we’d forgotten.
Spring brings light, even if it’s hidden behind sudden showers of rain. Summer is all joy and movement, even if we sweat through it. Autumn is peace, change, and preparation.
And really, our lives are no different.
Sometimes we’re in our personal autumn, letting go of things, preparing for harder times. Other times it’s winter, where we’re forced into solitude and tough conditions.
Then spring arrives with a fresh start, messy but full of hope. And summer bursts in, everything blooming as we fill our days with people, movement, and light.
The truth is, every season has its purpose. And no season lasts forever.
I’ve learned to find the little blossom in each one.
We might frown, cry, complain, hope, and long for something more, but life doesn’t pause. It keeps moving, and we have to live it.
