The Story of the Seasons

I have been waking up every morning to a room of red

Bright red

Red the color of warmth, but also joy

Sometimes it is alarming in my half asleep state

But then I remember

It’s fall

 

Only a month ago the leaves were green

A warm, beautiful green

Not the green of algae filled swamps or baby food

The color of fresh mown grass

Inviting

Invigorating

 

Today the sun shines through leaves of red

Yellow

Orange

Streaming into my room in a rainbow of color

Warmth fills the room

Even though outside those walls the temperature drops

 

Fast forward a month from now and the Earth is clothed in a blanket of brown

The leaves are dying

The color is gone

The bitter cold runs a shiver down your spine

Despite the layers upon layers used in a desperate attempt to stay warm

 

Looking even farther ahead the ground is adorned with a new blanket

One of pure white

Soft, as though a cloud decided to rest there for the night

But the raging wind and bitter cold is less than inviting

This is when I remain in my own four walls

Waiting

Anticipating the color to come again

 

For now, I will enjoy the red

The color

The light

I know a day is coming soon when it will be gone

But the cycle will not end

The color will be back

One day

 

This is the story of the seasons

Welcome to New England

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The Vessel

What would it be like to have a ship
A ship whose sails not only were pushed along by the wind behind them
Moving the transport in the cardinal directions
but also forced ahead by time and pulled back by the ticking of the clock

Imagine a ship capable of going anywhere
Anytime
Anyplace
Any moment
Any location
From your past lifetime.

Where would you take your ship?

The moment you realized your first love?
That time when joy surpassed all of life’s miseries?
How about when beauty seemed to bring you to a loss of words?
When family and friends were so close that they surrounded your heart and soul in a blanket of warmth?

Or would you return to those defining moments
Those days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
In which decisions, actions, people and events defined you from then on?

How about pain?
Would you change the moments that brought you anguish,
Or would you recognize that they
shape you
Mold you
Form you
By ironing out the wrinkles and smoothing out the edges?

With unlimited power behind you,
pushing you forward,
There is no limit to what you could do.

Then the question arises
Now what?

By spending time in the past, the current day has been slipping away like sand through the fingertips of a child who doesn’t understand the precious resource.
That’s what it is.
Time.
Precious.
A resource to be molded into anything you make it.

Although a second may seem infinitesimally small in the eyes of one who has their whole life ahead of them,
That second could be the one a child dreams of their entire life,
or the one a woman desperately wishes she could have back as her seconds remaining slowly but surely begin to disappear.

What will you mold your time into?
Will you spend it setting sail to explore the islands of yesterday,
Or will you follow the North Star into the unknown of tomorrow?
Living each moment like a new island to be discovered
To revisit
To cherish
To love
As one that could define the rest of your life.