Last Spring, I fell in love for the first time in nearly a decade. This man was charming, caring, and adorable in so many ways. Each day I spent with him was lovely and I never had to question his feelings for me. The flowers bloomed, as did the feelings we had for each other.
When our time was cut short suddenly in the Fall, it sent me reeling into grief I have not fully recovered from. I also produced some of my best work during this time. It's odd how nothing can make sense in your life, but the ability to carry on and draw and create comes through to save your ass despite feeling like you're dead inside.
As Fall turned to Winter, I waited for his return. A return that, despite me sending him love letters, carefully paced out, would not happen. With a text on new Year's Day, he confirmed he'd moved on and was not ready for a relationship, but had started dating. In the end, people can do what they want. And people come in and out of your life. That is how it is. No one is wrong.
Our love was short, and it flowed with each passing season in all of its poetic glory. Blooming in the Spring, heated and passionate in the Summer, and it died in the Fall. I waited in the Winter. And with the New Year, I got my answer. We loved each other for the length of a song. Too short. My outlook on life will not be the same. Not worse, not better. But changed forever certainly.
I'm sure I will be back my chipper self again soon. But it is taking a while for me to swim back to the surface of my life.