Sometimes, I miss seasons.
Like trees turning and crisp leaves crunching and that cold feeling when you first step outside that it kind of hurts a bit and your cheeks and ears burn.
Like silent snow fall.
Like rain on glass.
The slow progression of everything brown becoming green again.
That appreciation you get from the beginning of each season before it overstays it’s welcome a little too long. And you complain because it’s too hot, or it’s too cold, or you hate shoveling snow, or WHERE IS THE DAMN SUN!?
Before you grow accustomed to something, right before you lose your real appreciation for it.
That’s the part of seasons I miss the most.
I used to love fall at KU.
It was beautiful sure, but it’s the specifics that happened when the leaves changed that I remember most. Like blue sweatpants. And sidewalk chalk. And avoiding the path of that one person you kind of know but not really but sort of and ohhhh I don’t want a flyer let me get on this imaginary phone call. And I remember getting really, really ready for a class because there was this one boy I always walked by. And even if just for a brief second, just for the tiniest moment— if we held eye contact.. well that’d be worth it. And everyone would ask why are you so dressed up? And I’d say, ..oh I had a class presentation, or oh just felt like it.. but really… that wasn’t really it at all.
And I remember running down stairs. I remember passing traffic. Smelling charcoal. Marijuana. Beer. I remember American flags. Plastic lawn furniture. Haphazardly strung Christmas lights. I remember country music. I remember climbing on top of Bailey Hall, standing on the roof and screaming at the top of my lungs. I remember my front porch swing. Long, dwindling, several wine glass deep conversations on concrete. I remember tortilla chips and pizza crust. Bunk beds. Bows. Boots. Laughing and laughing and laughing until I couldn’t breathe.
When I was little, I used to lay on my stomach with my head in my hands on my kitchen floor in front of the glass sliding door and just watch snow flakes fall continuously on my front porch. I would will them silently to fall faster. Harder. Come on….SNOW DAY.
I used to lay in my back yard and stare up at the sky with the boy next door and point out all the animals we’d catch in the clouds. I always saw butterflies.
One time, I was so frustrated and angry and sad, I decided to go for a run. Half-way through, it started raining so hard I couldn’t even see. So I just stopped and stood there for 15 minutes. And I started crying. But no one saw. Or could tell. And it was secretly kind of nice that no one ever knew.
They say it never rains in Southern California. I wouldn’t know. It hasn’t rained since I’ve been here… so I guess they’re right.
But, It WAS cold today. Not really actually I guess. I’m spoiled now and cold here would be a relief to the harsh weather of the mid-west. But it felt a little cold to me. It felt like a changing of a season.
It felt like fall.
And for a brief second this morning…. just a fleeting moment– it felt like sophomore year again.
These days, my life runs on a constant delightful sunshiney 70 degree continuous reel.
And I love the sun. I love the warmth. The yellow salt of the beach. The pristine cloudless blue sky. The insatiable greens. The pink and purple and red that bloom and bloom and bloom.
But sometimes.. just every once in a while…
I still miss seasons.